These postings are the new revamped final versions of these pieces
before I move my story forward.  Feedback greatly appreciated, and I
thank those who have emailed me with thier thoughts.

"Sunshine"


"Regressions" rated PG for violence
http://home.comcast.net/~wolverine_panther/Regressions.html

"Now and Forever"
http://home.comcast.net/~wolverine_panther/NowandForever.html

"Together Again"
http://home.comcast.net/~wolverine_panther/TogetherAgain.html

Wanna find out what's wrong with Rogue?

It's up at novemberotica.com.

=====
~~~~~~~~Miss November Tuesday~~~~~~~
fanfic ~ original erotica ~ true stories
~~~~~~~~~~www.novemberotica.com~~~~~~~~~~

It's up, and it's a major one!

=====
~~~~~~~~Miss November Tuesday~~~~~~~
fanfic ~ original erotica ~ true stories
~~~~~~~~~~www.novemberotica.com~~~~~~~~~~

It's up!

=====
~~~~~~~~Miss November Tuesday~~~~~~~
fanfic ~ original erotica ~ true stories
~~~~~~~~~~www.novemberotica.com~~~~~~~~~~

Hi all,

I know, I know...I'm running behind here. Sorry. This part wraps up the TTT
crossover. (yes, this is still a X-men/LOTR crossover).
We've come so far into this fic that you need to have read the earlier parts to
follow this. You can do so here:
http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=526128

Hope you enjoy:

Part 13:

Scott hadn’t gotten around to speaking with either Gandalf or the mysterious
warrior who had saved Haldir as quickly as Scott had hoped to do. Medieval
battles in movies were much easier to deal with than in reality, as Scott and
Logan had soon found out. It would take a lot of time to gather the wounded,
find the dead and bury them, count up supplies and countless other things. Scott
and Logan had their first chance to try and find one of the two men they wanted
to talk to after having helped with some very crude surgery, which looked more
likely to kill the patient than save him. Shaken up by the amount of blood and
the cries of the wounded, Scott and Logan once again set out to find Gandalf and
talk to him about Rogue’s new powers. They eventually did and it was with relief
they found that, though the wizard had touched Rogue on purpose, it had been for
this occasion only; to help them win the day and nothing else. The wizard said
he was sure that, as with all her stolen powers this too would fade; in a matter
of days she would again only have her natural mutation left. Though Scott had
been sad to know they would lose the great asset Rogue’s added powers had been,
he was as relived and happy as Logan to know that she was all right and would
continue to be so. Still Scott would continue to keep an eye on Rogue because,
despite the wizard’s comforting words, Gandalf later admitted that he had never
done anything like what he had done to Rogue before and neither had she. So,
though it would be logical to assume she would lose all her powers and that she
would have no serious side effects, the fact was that they didn’t know for sure.

Leaving Gandalf to discuss what to do next with Aragorn and other high ranging
personnel Scott and Logan went to search for the stranger and this time they
managed to find him. He almost seemed as if he was hiding. He wore a long,
common, green/brown cape with a hood over his head and was attending to some
wounded, as far away from any high ranging personnel as he could be. He turned
around as he heard them approach, surprise and joy on his face as he saw whom it
was.

“Fuck!” Logan got out, shocked. Scott had said the man reminded him of Boromir
but this man didn’t just look like him; it was him!

“I am glad to see you too,” Boromir smiled at him, a gleam in his green eyes. It
struck Scott that if this was Boromir then he looked more at ease, more relaxed
than Scott had ever seen him before. He didn’t seem weighted down by million of
burdens nor did he have the agonized look in his eyes he had always seemed to
hold before. Though Scott could still see pain in every line of his face he
still looked so much more...alive.

“Boromir?” Scott probed and Boromir turned to him and nodded.

“It is I.”

Before another word could be spoken Scott gave the man a warm embrace, which he
happily repaid in kind before they drew apart. Scott couldn’t believe this
miracle and just kept looking at his friend, smiling widely.

“Doesn’t anybody around here stay dead?” Logan complained teasingly before
Boromir got another bear hug.

“This is…this is amazing,” Scott got out as Boromir drew back and smiled warmly
at his friends.

“I am happy to see you both alive and well.” They could hear the great relief in
his voice.

“We could say the same but how in the world is this possible? You’re like
Gandalf or what?” Logan wanted to know, curiously looking Boromir over. Boromir
pulled back his hood so he could see him better. Logan found no signs that he
had changed appearance like Gandalf had though his keen eyesight did notice that
Boromir’s face lacked the small scars on his lip and above one of his eyes that
he had had before as reminders of past battles.

“I am not like Gandalf and would never claim to be,” Boromir said seriously,
casting a quick glance at the wizard’s back from where he stood in the yard with
the King, his advisors, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Eomer. Boromir had been
greatly relieved to find all his friends well and safe, especially Aragorn and
Eomer, though he hadn’t gathered enough courage around him to face them yet. He
felt he had a lot to make up for and feared their judgement. Further more he was
deeply concerned that he hadn’t seen Merry or Pippin anywhere.

“So?” Scott pressed, wanting to know how it was possible he too had returned to
them.

“Before another word is spoken I need to know this; did the Little Ones
survive?” his worry and concern were clear in his voice and in every line of his
face. He silently prayed that they were all right. If they were not he would
spend the rest of whatever time he had left trying to avenge them.

“They are safe. They aren’t even in any fighting,” Scott calmed him down. If he
had had any doubts about whether or not this man was truly Boromir he had none
now. Just seeing the concern and love in Boromir’s eyes when he mentioned the
Hobbits and the relief that the good news brought him…no one could fake that.

“Probably the safest of us all,” Logan added.
”Good. Good,” Boromir nodded and smiled relived at hearing this. They were safe!
That was all that mattered.

“About how you returned?” Scott wanted to know. He had this strange feeling it
would be hard to hear, that something about Boromir’s return was wrong but he
refused to listen to that voice. He was back; that was the important thing.

“I am not quite sure how I returned,” Boromir admitted thoughtfully. “I remember
waking up in Saruman’s stronghold. There was a woman there. She claimed she had
made this body for me,” he motioned to his body, answering Scott’s next question
about how his body looked so well as compared to the last time Scott had seen
it. It had been float downriver wearing all the scars and wounds that the body
of a fallen warrior always has.

“Wait a minute,” Logan broke in. “Saruman brought you back?! But I thought that
guy was bad news?”
“He is,” Boromir’s voice was grim. “The woman told me the Ring had brought me
back; that I am now connected to it. I think it’s because of the dishonourable
act I committed before my…death.”

“I saw you get fatally hit several times before you rescued Haldir. Are you
immortal now?” Scott remembered his surprise when he had seen Boromir simply
ride on when he should have died. On the other hand, as Boromir himself had just
reminded him, he should have been dead long before now as it was.

“My new life is connected to the Ring. From what I can gather only the
destruction of the Ring can kill me; nothing else will.” Granted he hadn’t been
totally sure his theory was right but he had just proved it was; many times
over. It was strange to ride into battle, knowing he couldn’t die nor,
apparently, be permanently injured. It took the power out of a battle.

“What did Saruman want?” Scott had a bad feeling about all this. If Boromir
would finally die by the destruction of the Ring…wouldn’t it make sense he would
be working for Saruman now?

“The woman told me he wanted me to get the Ring. It was now with my brother in
Minas Tirith,” Boromir explained.

“With your brother?!” Logan asked surprised. “But weren’t Sam and Frodo supposed
to be going to Mordor?”

“They were and now are.” Logan and Scott looked at Boromir, waiting for him to
explain further.
“I did not take the Ring. I talked with my brother and he let the Little Ones
go. They’re heading towards Mt. Doom to destroy the Ring as we speak.”

Scott couldn’t keep a relieved sigh from leaving his lips. Despite what he knew
would be a death sentence Boromir had still done the right thing. There was no
doubt in Scott’s mind that Boromir had redeemed himself for whatever wrong he
had committed in the past many times over and had restored himself to his
rightful position as an honour bound warrior.

“I’m guessing your act of defiance didn’t go over well,” Logan guessed
insightfully. Boromir frowned.

“You could say that.”
”What happened?” Scott probed. Boromir laughed a short, bitter, and humourless
laugh.

“The woman I mentioned…she was about to give me another demonstration of her
power. Luckily Saruman called her back. Apparently his stronghold is under
attack.” A note of satisfaction was in his voice as he mentioned the last part.

“Finally someone is working with us instead of against us,” Logan mumbled.
Whoever had attacked Saruman…it sure was nice to know they weren’t all alone in
this.

“The woman…who was she?” Somehow that was a hard question to ask. Scott wasn’t
sure why but he hung on Boromir’s lips for the answer.

“I have never seen her before and I never wish to again. She is one of the most
powerful beings I’ve ever encountered,” Boromir tried hard to keep a shiver from
going through him as he fought to keep bad memories of dreadful torture from his
mind.
“Did she leave a name?” Logan asked. Strange that a woman should hold such
power. This world seemed pretty dead set against women in authority in general.

“I will never forget it. She wore the symbol of a firebird and called
herself...”
“Phoenix,” Scott whispered the word, his voice filled with dread. His
nightmares, his worst nightmare…was coming true. His beloved Jean…turned evil
and without Xavier to help him reach her…would he live out his nightmare? Was
she here to kill him?

“Yes. That was what she called herself. Do you know her?” Boromir asked
surprised.

“Oh, yeah. We know her alright,” Logan said grimly. Phoenix shouldn’t be in this
world at all but when Logan considered it he figured she had most likely arrived
in Middle Earth at the same time they had. Come to think of it everyone had
seemed surprised at their appearance in Rivendell, betraying that they hadn’t
been the ones to call for them. What if Sauron had called for Phoenix and they
had come along either by accident or by the help of some good force trying to
even the score? Sauron and Phoenix together and with full knowledge of their
powers and both sharing the same goal…that wasn’t a very pleasant thought. He
had thought or maybe rather hoped that they had put the ghost of Phoenix to rest
long ago. Jean’s powers had been locked down to a minimum by Xavier to contain
them…to keep them under control and prevent Phoenix from ever rising from the
ashes. But like her namesake she had risen from the dead.

“She is from your world?” Boromir guessed, confused by the dark look on Logan’s
face and the shocked and devastated look on Scott’s but he didn’t want to pry.

“Yes,” Scott’s answer was short and seemed to come from far away as if he was in
deep thought. Logan became worried; clearly remembering the emotional hell Scott
had been through the last time his beloved Jean had turned into Phoenix.

“Scott….Scott!” Logan got more than a little concerned when Scott didn’t reply
at first and snapped his fingers in front of Scott’s face to get his attention.
Scott focused on Logan, forcing his thoughts away from Phoenix and Jean.

“We need to tell Ororo and Rogue,” Scott said seriously. Logan knew what he
meant; they needed to warn them.

“Yeah.”
”Boromir, we need to talk with Rogue and Ororo. I think you should go find
Aragorn and Eomer. They’ll both be happy to see you again.” Though concern and
pain were in Scott’s eyes and voice there was no mistaking the genuine warmth
and happiness he felt over seeing Boromir back.

“I wanted so badly to speak with them but I admit I feared their scorn. I will
speak to them now,” Boromir promised, not wanting to push more information out
of his new friends.

“It’s good to have you back,” Scott said warmly and gave Boromir a heartfelt
shake with his hand at the other man’s wrist. Logan did likewise, the warmth and
power of his grip saying the same that Scott had expressed in words. Then the
two men walked away, back towards the caves and the large hall which served as
the temporary hospital for all the wounded. Boromir looked after them before he
returned his attention to the wounded he had been tending. Having finished with
them he slowly began to walk towards Aragorn and the others.

Some time later he was embarrassed over his earlier fear as everyone greeted him
back warmly once he had explained things. Aragorn had embraced him so tightly
Boromir had feared he should break and he had seen tears of joy in the young
King’s eyes. Also Eomer had greeted him warmly, giving him a large brotherly
embrace. He had been most hesitant towards Gandalf, knowing of his love for
Frodo but once again Gandalf proved to live up to his reputation as wise. He put
the past to rest and welcomed Boromir back without any hesitation and with more
warmth than he had showed him when he had originally joined the Fellowship. Soon
they made Boromir feel wanted and cared for, making him feel all his pain and
sacrifices for his friends had been more than worth it.

*                    *                      *

Ororo couldn’t believe it had come to this. She had thought she had found
Heaven, finally found happiness. Now…now she felt as if she were dying. The only
thing preventing her from breaking down was the fact that she kept reminding
herself that she had done the right thing; she had saved Legolas. Though it was
a very cold comfort that she doubted would keep her up for long.

He had come to her some time after the battle. She had kept an eye out for him
during the fighting to try and make sure he was all right. Despite her faith in
his fighting abilities she had still been happy to see him uninjured when she
had seen him again after the fighting was over. She had been helping with the
wounded, blood everywhere, screams echoing in the stone halls. Though she had
made it stop raining and had tried to call off the dark clouds to help them
better find the wounded among all the dead, her mood had always been reflected
in the weather and right now it was very hard to keep dark clouds from
reforming. She had forced herself to be distant with him, had forced herself not
to look him in the eyes as she had spoken those dreadful words.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”
Just saying them had felt like stabbing herself in the heart with a very large
kitchen knife. She could almost feel his confusion and hurt. He wasn’t sure what
she meant so she had been forced to clarify;

“It is over between us.”
He had taken it like she knew he would, with a cold grace.

“Look at me. I deserve that much at least.”
His words had been like a slap to the face and she had forced herself to look at
him, instantly regretting it when she saw the deep agony in his blue eyes. She
didn’t notice when tears began to run down her cheeks.

“Be well, nîn meleth,” his voice was filled with bittersweet love and hurt. Then
he took her right hand to his lips and gently kissed it. The gesture almost
broke her.

“Legolas, please assist me,” Aragorn stood a little away from them but when
Ororo looked at him she knew that he knew what was happening. He nodded at her
as if he shared her pain and she felt a short surge of useless anger towards him
for he had been the one to make her do this. Then only coldness and loss were
left. Aragorn had been right in helping his friend; this had to be done no
matter how much it hurt her. Please take good care of him, she silently asked of
Aragorn and the young King nodded at her as if he had heard her silent plea.
When Legolas reached him Aragorn touched his arm and almost guided him out of
the room, offering this light physical contact as if to loan the elf the
strength he would need to go on. Legolas smiled a little at his bond brother
though pain was carved into every line of his face and in his eyes, making
Aragorn worried. He feverishly hoped Ororo hadn’t pulled back too late, that
Legolas hadn’t given his love to her. For if he had, Aragorn could have just
signed his friend’s death warrant instead of helping him…

*Thank you, Estel,* Legolas had whispered softly as he had been guided away from
Ororo and the love he had lain at her feet. He wasn’t sure what he thanked for;
that Aragorn was there, that he seemed to understand…just something. Aragorn
nodded, not sure what else to do. This had to work; it couldn’t be too late. He
couldn’t lose Legolas. Not now. Not like this. It had to work!

That had been almost six hours ago. Scott and Logan had come by, first to let
her know that they had talked with Gandalf about Rogue and next to tell her
Phoenix was back. None of this news seemed to register with her. All she could
think of was Legolas and all she had lost. Boromir’s miraculous return had
brought a smile to her lips and a warm gleam to her eyes for a few seconds but
that was all. Scott, Logan, Rogue and even Boromir had, with concern, noticed
her pained look and had commented on it. But she couldn’t talk about it;
couldn’t explain. She simply hurt too much. She helped the wounded, her motions
mechanical with no emotions in them. She didn’t think about the future or about
the future battles. Her future looked empty and dead without Legolas in it.
Suddenly when she looked out at the sky she saw it was grey and it was raining
heavily. She had let her control slip and her moods had been reflected in the
weather. Pulling herself together she stopped the rain and banished the grey
clouds. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calmer. She wiped the last
traces of her tears away. If she were to keep Legolas safe, he could never know
how much she loved him, how much this hurt her.

Suddenly an unusual feeling came to her; not unpleasant but…nothing like
anything she had ever felt before. Thinking about it she had felt this…sensation
for some weeks now. She had ignored it before, had been too caught up in one
thing or another. It was now, when she had forced herself to relax, that she
began to realise that something had changed. She tried to stay clam and find the
source of the change. It was to be found within her, she could feel it. She was
in tune with nature; she should be able to find out if something was wrong. She
focused, stayed calm, reached out…further, further… There. It was…It couldn’t
be! She tried again but with the same result. It couldn’t be! But it was. She
was…She was…

“I’m pregnant!”

Unaware of Ororo’s realization, the army continued to prepare for the next
battle. The King, Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Boromir, Scott and Logan
discussed what to do next and how to proceed now. They had won a battle but the
war was just about to begin.

For Ororo the battle hadn’t even begun and she felt she had already lost the
war. Yet in the middle of her darkness she felt a glimmer of hope…a hope she
carried within herself. If she could get by, fight back the dark clouds…maybe
there was still hope. If she could just hold on to that hope in the mist of her
sorrow…could see the light, however faint…

There was still hope. There had to be.



The End of “Fellowship Of Heroes 2: Towers Of Darkness”.



To be continued in “Fellowship Of Heroes 3: The Return” if anyone should be
interested…



Author’s notes:

Thanks so much to Nancy for beta and support. You’re a lifesaver! *hugs*

Yes, Rogue will apparently lose all of her new powers but let’s see what having
them might have done to her.

So, we come to another stop. Hope you have enjoyed it so far. Let me know if I
should go ahead and take on the third one as well.

A few other notes: Legolas’s nickname for Ororo “nîn meleth” is still Elfish for
“My love”.

Will Ororo and Legolas get back together? Will Boromir truly die if the Ring is
destroyed? How will Legolas take Ororo breaking up with him? How about Scott and
Eowyn? What will happen to Ororo’s child? Will Phoenix kill Scott as he has
dreamt she will? Or will Jean return? Has Arwen truly left and will our heroes
win the day? (Okay, the last two are pretty obvious but the others…let me know
what you might want to see happen).

Any suggestions or comments welcome (if you use a polite and civil tone as
always).



Take care and thanks for reading



Love

Nadja

*I'm new here*
*This is the edited version, I wish I could do the
italic signs but I can't it won't work on email, still
I hope ya'll like this first part?*

Title: Life: Lots of thinking.
Author: Nicca
Email: loganmarie_100@...
Rating: PG 13 for cursing
Continuity: X1/ X2/Au
Disclaimer: Don’t own the characters, notta, nothing,
zilch!
Feedback: Pretty Please???
Summary: Marie just thinking about everything since
she’s arrived at Xavier’s while listening to Avril
Lavigne’s Losing grip.
Notes:This >means the lyrics<. Don’t know how many
chapters I’d go. There will be a lot of twists, to
this series.
Comments: I was kinda inspired by the Losing Grip
song. I am sooooo new at this! The fic thing.

~*~

Ok, so, it’s been here a month plus now since I
arrived here at Xavier’s with Logan. It has been about
a week or so, since Jean’s disappearance. She ain’t
dead, just disappeared. How do I know that this is a
fact? The professor of course, knowing that he’s
psychic and all. See one day I just had enough of
everyone’s somber attitudes, and when I told Scott
what the professor and I have been talking about he
got all mad, I just said when I kinda exploded, with
anger. “Look, Scott, would you just stop being all
fuckin’ sad, Jean is not dead!.” Then we had an
argument about that and I stormed off. Never talked to
him since.

Now, about my mutation, well, the professor and I have
been working on it ever since we got back from the
White House, and well, I had made huge progress, I am
now able to touch, but if someone, touches me with out
me knowing, more like an accident brush or something,
then the switch turns on. So that’s the good and the
bad. But I still don’t touch people, why would I, not
to be mean, but I don’t right now have a reason to
touch people.
Don’t get me wrong it’s nice to touch people without
any type of barriers, but right now I’m putting the
touching thing on hold right now.

Now let’s get to me and Bobby. He you could say, put a
temporary hold on his career as an X-Men, he’s in
college, but still lives here and right now he went to
Boston to somewhat mend fences with his parents and
brother. He and I settled on being just friends, I
told him about how he’s in my head and how it doesn’t
take a genius to know by the way he looks at me since
the kiss that he’s afraid of me. So I told him that 1)
I couldn’t be with someone who’s freakin’ scared to
death of me. 2) I knew since the first day I knew if
something “romantic” was gonna happen between us that
it wasn’t gonna last long. So we’re still working on
the friends thing.

Right now. I’m listening to Avril Lavigne’s Losing
Grip. I can’t help it but  think when I’m listening to
this song this reminds me about mine and Logan’s
relationship. See, I think that he thinks of me as a
little sister, since Jean’s  disappearance all we’ve
been doing was eyeing eachother, and that’s all,
besides, the usual hello, good mornings, good nights,
and  all that.

>Are you aware of what you make me feel, baby
Right now I feel invisible to you, like I'm not real<

That lyrics I feel that a lot, when’s he’s was around
Jean it’s like that I am invisible to him, I don’t
know if Logan really loves her or something.

>Didn't you feel me lock my arms around you
Why'd you turn away?<

That reminds me when he came back, and when we hugged
and he just seemed to not realize that I have kinda
changed and the look I was giving him was kind of a
dead give away.

>Here's what I have to say I was left to cry there,
waiting outside there grinning with a lost stare
That's when I decided


Why should I care
Cuz you weren't there when I was scared I was so alone
You, you need to listen I'm starting to trip,
I'm losing my grip and I'm in this thing alone<

That reminded me of when I was  having his and Eric’s
nightmares, and I couldn’t really tell anyone because
they wouldn’t really understand, not like Logan.

>Am I just some chick you place beside you to take
somebody's place
when you turn around can you recognize my face you
used to love me,
you used to hug me
But that wasn't the case<

I feel that if he’s not around Jean I  just feel that
he just hangs around me, more like it, but I’m just
thinking bad thoughts, because thing song is not only
a good song but it sure as hell is very depressing.

I have to say that I am so fuckin’ jealous of Jean
because she gets all of the men she wants, and while
others think that I’m just a kid, like Logan, and to
tell you the truth I was always mature for my age, I
just felt that I wasn’t sure if I was really a
teenager, you now, like I’m a adult stuck on being a
teenager. Which I really hate.

~ Rogue, are you busy?~

~No professor, why?~

~There’s a meeting in the conference room~

~Sure~

So, I have arrived in the conference room, now what? I
think that it’s bad news.

“It’s Jean” Scott said.

“Really, what about her” I said in a sarcastic voice.

“She’s alive”  Scott said with delighted voice, of
course.

Well, DUH!

“Well, duh.”

“Rogue, I’m so sorry that I doubted you.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Paused. “What else? What did you all
find out? Wait she did that head thing didn’t she?
Professor?”

“Yes, she did Rogue.”

“Cool, when’s she comin’ back?”

“Next week.” Professor said.

“Why then and not now”

“She said that she the Dark Phoenix and that she’s
working out away from the dark right now.”

“Oh.” Now I gaze at Logan, and that’s when it hits me,
it’s gonna hell competing  with  the returning more
gorgeously beautiful than I will ever be Jean. I
wonder how Scott will react to that?

Shit, I don’t know what to do, I feel so fuckin’
depressed as hell, I think that I’m just gonna return
to my own room that the professor gave me when I
officially turned X-Men, and listen to that Avril
Lavigne song tons of times until I fall asleep or
something.

“Okay, well if y’all need me, I’ll be in my room
listening to music.”

Then I left the room.

TBC


------------------------------------------------------


Here’s the full song:

"Losing Grip"
Are you aware of what you make me feel, baby
Right now I feel invisible to you, like I'm not real
Didn't you feel me lock my arms around you
Why'd you turn away?
Here's what I have to say I was left to cry there,
waiting outside there grinning with a lost stare
That's when I decided

[chorus]
Why should I care
Cuz you weren't there when I was scared I was so alone
You, you need to listen I'm starting to trip,
I'm losing my grip and I'm in this thing alone

Am I just some chick you place beside you to take
somebody's place
when you turn around can you recognize my face you
used to love me,
you used to hug me
But that wasn't the case
Everything wasn't ok I was left to cry there
waiting outside there grinning with a lost stare
That's when I decided

[chorus]

Crying out loud I'm crying out loud
Crying out loud I'm crying out loud

Open your eyes
Open up wide
Why should I care
Cuz you weren't there
when I was scared I was so alone Why should I care
Cuz you weren't there when I was scared I was so alone
Why should I care
If you don't care then I don't care were not going
newhere
Why should I care cuz you weren't there when I was
scared I was so alone
Why should I care If you don't care then i don't care
were not going newhere

=====
Nicca
"I have the tedency to confuse people a lot!"

__________________________________
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Title: X-Book 2: Shadows and Steel - Chapter 18: Order into Chaos

By: Kath713/Leen713

Rating: PG-13 (violence, language)

Genre: Crossover, SPOILERS FOR X2

Summary: See Chpt 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing in regards to the Marvel characters or
any character from a previously published source portrayed in this
story.

***

Chapter Eighteen:

Magento smiled amicably to the young woman and walked toward her.

She was still yanking at the metal around her wrist, trying to look
dangerous, but her fear betrayed her.

"Let me out of this now," Rebecca said darkly, but
unconvincingly.

"In a moment," Magneto assured her and continued to pace
around the room.

The other mutants stepped back, respectfully as he passed.  From the
doorway, Mystique and Sabertooth entered the room and stood in
waiting.  Rebecca spotted them and began to struggle again.  Magneto
glanced back at them and then back to the girl.

"Don't be afraid, my dear," he said, "We mean
you…no harm…"

Rebecca looked at him cynically, "Could have fooled me…"

Magneto smiled sympathetically and regarded her with curiosity.  He
could sense the metal heating under her hands, but the danger had
passed.  She looked a bit like her mother, he decided, but had not
inherited her temperament.  Charlene McGee had been so level, so
controlled, quite different from this explosive, frightful child.

Rebecca glanced around at the group and shook her head, "Who are
you people?"

"We are your Brothers, Miss Malloy," Magneto said proudly,
"The Brotherhood of Mutants, and we're been looking for you for a
long time."

Toad stood straighter with his shoulders back as Erik motioned to
them.  Rebecca glanced at him and he smiled proudly at Erik's
distinction.  The Lady Deathstrike also seemed pleased and glanced
at their leader with a great measure of respect.

Rebecca frowned, "Oh, yeah?  Well, you found me, good for
you."

"Yes," Magneto agreed in a slow and thoughtful tone, "Not
an easy task considering the company you keep.  Or those in the
Council who keep a watch on you."

She did not reply, simply glared at Magneto indignantly, as he spoke.

"I knew your mother...many years ago now," he continued,
"Before you and your brother were born.  When I myself was actively
involved in the Council's affairs."

Rebecca was still frowning, but the expression had changed,
involuntarily, to one of curiosity.  She glanced around again at the
others in the room.  Brotherhood of Mutants?  She had heard that
name before, and a man who could manipulate metal, that sounded like
the mutant the police had apprehended at Liberty Island.  The news
had never released his name but Sebastian had known it at the time...

"You're...you're Erik Lensherr..." she said quietly
and tensed against the wall.

Magneto smiled, very pleased at the recognition, and nodded forward
slightly.

"My reputation precedes me," he said, "I'm not sure
if you should consider that good or bad..."

Rebecca swallowed nervously, "Well, you've broken into my
home, attacked me, destroyed my kitchen and now have me stuck to a
wall...and completely at your mercy...so I'm going to say...um,
good?"

"I apologize for the invasiveness of our introduction, my
dear," he said with a sad smile, "And, considering what I had known
about your mother, our directness now seems quite unwise."

Rebecca nodded and glanced around the room with a sigh.  The
explosion she had caused, plus the trick with the appliances, had
left the downstairs rooms covered with shattered glass and metal.
Most breakables (which were also valuables of her uncle) had fallen
from shelves and pedestals.  She suddenly chuckled at the thought of
her glass-manipulating brother sitting with the thousands of pieces
and trying to fuse them all back together into the right order.

"Yeah," she said through her nervous laughter, "Just a
little unwise.  You could have just looked me up in the phone book.
Maybe called up, sent an e-mail?"

Pyro laughed quietly from the back of the room, and Rebecca glanced
at him and shrugged.

"What?  I'm listed.  Would have saved my uncle the cost of
the windows," she said with a strange grin, which faded quickly,
"What about Sid?  You don't have anyone attacking him, do you?"

Magneto could sense the heat again as the young woman pulled at her
chained wrist again, sudden concern for her brother overpowering her
fear.

"Sid?" he asked.

"My brother…Jeremy…" she replied.  Magneto shook his
head and smiled.

"No," he said, "We thought it easier to acquire you both
here, to speak to you privately.  My recent incarceration prevents
me from enjoying the luxuries of public appearances."

"Speak to us about what?" Rebecca asked, defensively.
Magneto had said acquire them, what had he meant by that, she
wondered.

"About the future of our people," he replied, his face become
stony and somber, "About the survival of the mutant race."

Then, Magneto expression changed again, fading back into his
friendly smile.

"We are simply trying to help the world understand what mutants
are.  There are so many dark rumors of our intentions.  And of the
attacks eight months ago.  No one knows all the real facts and
ignorance...is the root of all hatred.  Your mother understood this,
and I was hoping to have her support in our ventures."

Rebecca looked at him for a long moment.  The sudden intensity in
his voice made her extremely wary of his former pleasant demeanor.
There was more to his motivations than he was admitting but she
decided it was safer to listen to what he had to say than to try
another escape.  The power was rolling inside of her, but she did
not trust her control in this dangerous situation, and she pushed it
away.

"Ventures against things like the Mutant Registration Act?"
she asked, and forced her body to relax, "Like, intense
negotiations?"

Magneto nodded, "Hopefully, not too intense, Miss Malloy.  If you
are familiar with the Council, you know that approach is not
effective."

"Not real effective with me either, Mr. Lensherr," she said and
twisted her wrist underneath the metal shackle.

Magneto raised one hand casually and the metal confining her fell to
the ground.  She stumbled forward and steadied herself against the
wall.

"Thanks," she mumbled, rubbing her left wrist, and then
glanced down at the bar that had been wrapped around her waist.  It
was still partially covered with a black plastic cover and the
remaining letters spelled, OREMAN GRIL; the remainders of her George
Foreman Grill.

Rebecca sighed, "Damn...I loved that thing."

Magneto glanced at Deathstrike and nodded.  She turned and headed
out of the room towards the front door, going to prepare the car for
their departure.

"Purhaps," Magneto said, "We should adjourn to somewhere
more suitable to talk.  I would like to meet Jeremy also, can your
brother be contacted easily?"

Rebecca nodded, "I can reach him...this...," she motioned
around the room, "This might take a while to explain..."

At her words, a shelf to her left crumbled to the floor.  Erik
motioned for the rest of the Brotherhood to head out of the room.
Mystique nodded and turned to leave, pulling a grumbling Sabertooth
along with her.  Pyro followed next, and then Toad.  As Sabertooth
stomped through the living room, a vase on one intact shelf wobbled
unsteadily.

Rebecca saw it begin to fall and made a motion toward it with a
small concerned gasp.  Toad reached out quickly and steadied it with
one hand.  He turned and grinned at her, amused.

Rebecca returned his grin and exhaled in relief.

"Thanks alo…" she began but was cut off suddenly as a red
light shot through the living room windows from outside and smashed
the vase violently.  Toad jumped quickly out of the way as the rest
of the Brotherhood ducked quickly.  Rebecca just stood, with her
hands on her hips and sighed again.

Figures…she thought.



Another blast tore through the room and the Brotherhood scattered to
evade the beams.  Magneto headed quickly to the back hall, as
Sabertooth roared and turned to face the new attacker.  Mystique
went quickly to the large mutant's side, motioning for Pyro to go
to Magneto and head for cover.

As they moved, several new figures appeared inside her home.  She
could not make them out entirely, but she could easily see three
sets of glowing eyes, one white and the other two a fiery red.

Toad did not join his Brothers in their battle.  Instead, he grabbed
Rebecca by the waist and drug her back into the dining room.
Rebecca yelped in surprise but did not struggle as they moved.  He
released her, and she fell next to the large central table.

"Stay here," Toad said to her.

"What is going on now?" she asked him angrily.

Before he could reply, a figure appeared in the doorway, eyes
glowing red and a ball of energy crackling in his hand.  With a
small flick of his wrist, the intruder shot the ball of energy at
Toad, who evaded it and scaled one wall quickly.

Rebecca pulled herself up to peer over the table top, just in time
to watch Toad's long tongue shoot toward the new mutant
viciously. The red-eyed mutant dodged to the left and slammed into
the wall near her.  He glanced at her in surprise, and in that
moment of distraction, was thrown violently forward as Toad's tongue
wrapped around his arm and pulled.  From the floor, the mutant
pulled something from his pocket with his free hand.  The object
flared to life and crackled with new energy.  He threw the object
toward Toad, who was thrown backward into the kitchen from the
subsequent explosion as the object hit the wall.

Feeling completely confused, Rebecca gaped at the new mutant as he
stood slowly and stepped back toward her.  She scrambled to her feet
quickly and stared at him.  His eyes seemed to dim slightly and he
looked at her with concern.

"Are you alright, ma chere?" he asked her with a thick Cajun
accent.

"Not...entirely..." she said slowly, regarding him
cautiously.  From the other rooms, sounds of crashing and yelling
could be heard and Rebecca guessed her new arrivals were greeted as
warmly as her first intruder greeted Cajun man.

"Come with me now," he ordered and grabbed her arm to pull
her along.

Alright… she thought angrily, …that's enough…

"No," she relied forcefully, unintentionally heating the
man's gripping hand, "Not until someone…anyone," she called
louder, "…explains to me what the hell is going on!"

The Cajun man looked confused, "We are here saving you from the
Brotherhood!  Now we must move!"

"Saving me?" she shouted back.

Before the Cajun man could answer, the ruined refrigerator was
shoved roughly aside and Toad leapt out from behind it.  The new
mutant reached for his pockets again, but was tackled by the green
mutant before he could reach them.  The Cajun man was thrown to the
side and landed hard on the floor next to Rebecca.

He coughed, and shook his head, "Merde.  `Let me go with
them, Professor.' Yeah, that was a brilliant idea, Remy, just
brilliant…"

Rebecca shifted over to where he lay and helped him sit up as he
choked.  From her other side, Toad stalked toward the Cajun man, his
vicious stare never leaving his target.

"Fuckin' X-Men," he growled and Rebecca glanced back at
him.

The Cajun man drew something from his pocket and it began to glow.
In the moment of tense anticipation of battle, Rebecca stood between
the two opponents and held hands up to each.

"Whoa," she said, "Enough.  Stop it now."

"You don't understand, chere," the Cajun man said,
"He's dangerous…"

Rebecca glared back at him, "And, you're not, Mr. I-Blow-Up-
Drywall?  This is my house.  And I've had way too many people
breaking in and then trying to save me…got it?"

She glanced back to Toad, who was staring at her angrily for the
interruption.

"Got it?" she asked him directly.  Toad took a step back, and
then replied as Rebecca turned her head away from him again.

"No," he said, and then jumped over her toward the X-Man.
The attack was quick but not unexpected.  The new mutant shot
another ball of energy toward the ceiling and it crumbled around
them, blasting a giant hole in the first and second floors.



As the debris settled around them, the insanity unfolding around
Rebecca Malloy became complete and utter chaos.  She coughed and
looked out toward the night sky.

Meeting her startled gaze, thirty-five feet above where she had
fallen to the floor, was a giant robotic face.

***
Archived at www.fanfiction.net/~leen713

It's up there!


=====
~~~~~~~~Miss November Tuesday~~~~~~~
fanfic ~ original erotica ~ true stories
~~~~~~~~~~www.novemberotica.com~~~~~~~~~~

The continuing story of Logan and Danielle in the "Into New Territory"
saga.  This is a delightful little chapter - enjoy!

This part is rated PG.

http://home.comcast.net/~wolverine_panther/Snowballs.html

go here for previous installments

http://home.comcast.net/~wolverine_panther/WolvieStories.html

"Sunshine"

Together Forever - PG
http://home.comcast.net/~wolverine_panther/TogetherForever.html


With Arms Wide Open (get out your box of Kleenex - Logan as you will
never see him again!) PG 13 for language

http://home.comcast.net/~wolverine_panther/WithArmsWideOpen.html


Into the Wolverine's Den - PG for language and frank talk
http://home.comcast.net/~wolverine_panther/IntoTheWolverinesDen.html



go here for previous installments

http://home.comcast.net/~wolverine_panther/WolvieStories.html

"Sunshine"

The continuing story of Logan and Danielle in the "Into New Territory"
saga

This part is rated PG13 for descriptions of violence.

http://home.comcast.net/~wolverine_panther/DearDiary.html

go here for previous installments

http://home.comcast.net/~wolverine_panther/WolvieStories.html

"Sunshine"

Title: X-Book 2: Shadows and Steel - Chapter 19: Inner Warnings

By: Kath713/Leen713

Rating: PG-13 (violence, language)

Genre: Crossover, SPOILERS FOR X2

Summary: See Chpt 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing in regards to the Marvel characters or
any character from a previously published source portrayed in this
story.

***

Chapter Nineteen:

As Rebecca Malloy was meeting the Brotherhood, Jeremy Malloy was
meeting his date for dinner.  Something had been bothering him for
about an hour, though he was not sure what it was.  Like a nagging
in his mind, a strange warning he knew he could not ignore.

"Excuse me," he said to the woman (the much older woman) whom
had accompanied him to the restaurant, "I just need to make a
phone call."

The woman nodded, and smiled warmly at him as he left.  She did not
know him as `Sid,' a nickname shared only by his family and
closest friends.  And, if she had known the debonair gentleman was
barely in his twenties, and also a mutant, she most likely would
have had a much different attitude toward him.  However, Jeremy
Malloy was a charming, if not a little bit arrogant, man of society
who frequented many prestigious parties and restaurants wooing the
upper classes of Chicago's ladies.

Sid used this alternate identity to make a name for himself both in
the financial world and, more importantly, the technological world.
His true passion, other than those of the feminine persuasion, had
always been computers and technology.  He had developed and sold
many designs for aircraft already to various sources, and planned to
open his own company as soon as his income capital allowed.

But, Sid also had his other life, his real life.  Hidden under a
facade of wealth and intelligence, he was still a young man who had
family and friends in much less favorable places in the world.  And
in that family was his sister, his other and opposite self, and
usually when the warning feeling filled his mind, it had something
to do with her.

Sid approached the restaurant's main host and asked politely to
use a private phone.  The host escorted him to a quiet back hall and
directed him to several small cubicles, each with a desk and phone.

Sid thanked the host and tipped him well, before sitting down and
dialing his home phone number quickly.  His movements were smooth
and solid, beautiful but hard as the glass he could control.  He ran
one hand reflexively through his blonde hair and felt his heart
begin to pound as the phone rang again and again.

Something's wrong, he mind insisted, but Sid hung up and dialed
Rebecca's cell phone.  She could still be out, she has late
nights at the Library sometimes, and tonight...

Tonight, there's something wrong, that inner voice insisted
again, as the new number rang, She can't get to the phone…

Sid slammed the receiver back into its base and moved quickly back
into the main lobby of the restaurant.  His hand was in his pocket,
flexing a small ball of glass as he walked.  He could feel heat
there and his gripped it in his palm tightly.

As he reached the host's platform, he smiled up at the man,
struggling to keep his cool demeanor.

"I'm afraid an emergency has just come up," he said and
the host nodded, "Please see that my lady friend is well taken
care of."

"Of course, Mr. Malloy," the host said with a gracious smile
and headed in the direction of the table.

Sid's face melted from one of professional grace to a nervous and
worried child.  He knew something was wrong, he never questioned how
he knew, but he knew.  Him and Becca, they always know where they
are, and they always know if something is wrong.  Call it instinct
or ESP or whatever else, they always just know.

She's at home, he thought as he headed out the door, his mind
racing with the precision of a machine. Becca, if you can hear
me…I know.

As Sid walked past the large display windows of the restaurant, the
glass rippled and fogged.  When a renovation crew arrived the next
day to make repairs, the windows would still be viscous and pliable
and they would have no idea what made the glass so unstable.

***

As the Lady Deathstrike stepped out the front door, she only took a
few steps before she paused.  She glanced around the dark street
warily and inhaled deeply through her nose.  There was a scent in
the air she recognized, and a vicious grin spread across her face.

The Wolverine.  She was not sure how it was possible but she had no
doubt that he was nearby.

Quietly, moving like a learned predator, she made her way around to
the back of the house.  She glanced at the ground and noted several
sets of fresh footprints leading across the lawn.

Deathstrike peered around one corner, and saw five figures in the
darkness.  Magneto had explained to her about those who followed
Charles Xavier, how they interfered with his plans to make the world
better for mutants.  They were a danger to her leader and their
mission.

But, in this moment, her eyes locked on only one of them.  They were
facing away from her, speaking in low voices as they tried to see
into the dark house.  She approached slowly, and smiled again as she
heard the Wolverine sniffing the air.

That's right, she thought, Remember, you son of a bitch.  Out of
all those you have killed…remember my scent...Because I'll be
the one who kills you.

***

"They're inside," Wolverine said confidently.  The other
three X-Men, and one Cajun trainee, lingered outside the dark house
and debated their next move.

Iceman stared up at the charred windows of the home with a stony
expression.  He had been well trained over the past eight months,
but he doubted any amount of training could have prepared him for
this first encounter with the Brotherhood.  He had met Magneto and
Mystique before, and knew what to expect from them.  He had even
learned the most evasive techniques for dealing with the powers of
other mutants loyal to Magneto.

However, the second floor had obviously been damaged by fire, and he
wondered if John Allerdyce, now simply referred to as Pyro by his
former teachers and mentors, had been the cause of the flames they
had seen from the jet.

Cyclops turned to face Wolverine, and frowned, "How many?"

"All of them," he replied.  Wolverine glared through the dark
windows with his hand clenched into fists.

Iceman looked over at the ferial man with trepidation, his cool
exterior betrayed by his own anxiety.  His own hands suddenly felt
very cold, very heavy; the burden of his mutation had not weighed on
him this heavily since the abrupt departure from his family on the
day before Alkalai Lake.  The last day he had considered Pyro a
friend.

"All of them," Storm repeated softly, "The Professor was
right about Magneto not wasting his time getting the Brotherhood
back to full strength."

"So," Iceman asked quickly, "There're four of
them?"

Storm looked at him sternly, but not without a measure of sympathy.

"Five," she corrected him and then turned back towards
Cyclops, "I doubt they've realized we're here…"

"You sure about that?" Wolverine said darkly, sniffing the
air and frowning.

"I think we would know if they knew," Storm said, thinking
back on Liberty Island, "Killing is a game they like to
play…"

Cyclops shook his head, "Yeah, but if the Professor's right
about their motivations tonight, I don't think their here to harm
those kids, just acquire them…"

Wolverine listened to the others vaguely, and suddenly focused on
something else.  It was familiar, dangerous, what his keen senses
were warning him about.  It was the same sense he had in that
abandoned base in the Colorado Rockies.  A passing scent…a
presence…like a ghost from his past…

"Shit," he said softly and stepped away from the house.

"Logan, what is it?" Cyclops asked as Wolverine unsheathed
his claws.

"I'm not sure," he lied and then looked at the other
X-Man and continued, "Go...Do what we're here to
do…I'm gonna watch this side."

Cyclops frowned, but nodded.  There was no time to argue here.  He
lead the others around the corner and Wolverine turned back to face
the shadows.  The yard was quiet and he walked toward the front of
the house slowly.

The wind was blowing softly and the scents in the air lingered.  The
peaceful night was suddenly betrayed by a very familiar noise.
Metal against metal, opening upon itself, such a delicate sound
compared to the harsh tearing of his own claws, but no less
dangerous.

It's impossible, he thought, and then added cynically, Don't
think that, bub.  Irony hates you…

He heard a footstep and spun viciously around as figure, no longer a
ghost or memory, stepped in front of him and smiled.  She had not
changed in form from the woman he had battled at Alkalai Lake, but
in her eyes he saw the hunger of the beast, and any trace of
Stryker's caged slave had disappeared.

"Hello, Brother," Lady Deathstrike announced in a clear tone,
the first time Logan had heard her speak.  She was flexing her
fingers as far as her long adamantium claws would allow with wild
anticipation.

"You're alive…" he said, almost to confirm the fact for
himself. She laughed, her voice almost melodic, yet so full of
hatred it seemed hardly possible that both sounds came from the same
throat.

"You're right…" she agreed.

A series of explosions could be heard from within the home, as the
other X-Men and Brotherhood members began to clash.

Deathstrike regarded him for a long moment, the vicious smiled
fading from her face.  She clicked her metallic fingertips together
rhythmically, setting the beat, counting down, to the tempo of her
own heart.  Wolverine could hear both sounds becoming faster and
when the Lady spoke again, her voice was a low growl.

"This time, you'll be the one who dies," she said and
sprung from the ground toward him.

Wolverine braced himself for impact and swung his fist toward her as
she lunged.  Deathstrike landed in front of him, her long claws
meeting his own with the screech of grinding metal.  They held a
moment when the torn flesh of their fists touched, standing face to
face, each equal in strength and power, made to be death's most
effective purveyors.

Deathstrike brought her legs up and shoved Wolverine away by his
chest; their momentary stand off ended as she lunged at him again.
As they struggled, another weapon, made by the same madman who gave
them their claws, was approaching their companions.

***
Archived www.fanfiction.net/~leen713

Title: X-Book 2: Shadows and Steel - Chapter 20: Waking Nightmares

By: Kath713/Leen713

Rating: PG-13 (violence, language)

Genre: Crossover, SPOILERS FOR X2

Summary: See Chpt 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing in regards to the Marvel characters or
any character from a previously published source portrayed in this
story.

***

Chapter Twenty:

After Cyclops blasted through the living room wall, he entered the
house just as Magneto and Pyro headed down the front hall.  He moved
to follow them, and was met with the snarling obstacle known as
Sabertooth.  As the large mutant reached for him, however, his arm
was coated to the elbow with a thick layer of ice.

Sabertooth turned toward Iceman and lunged at the much smaller
mutant.  Iceman jumped back in surprise and hit the intact living
room wall.  With quick skill he formed a large layer of ice between
himself and his attacker.  Sabertooth swung the heavy ice-coated
fist and it slammed into the frozen wall.

Iceman gaped as a circular crack began to grow along the wall and he
could hear the large mutant growling behind it.  There was a glow of
red and the hulk of a man was blown to the side.  Iceman stepped out
from behind the ice wall just as Sabertooth recoiled and lunged at
Cyclops again.

On the other side of the room, Storm noticed a very much alive, very
familiar green mutant dragging a young woman she did not recognize
into the next room.  She began to head in his direction, when
Mystique stood in her path.  Storm's dark eyes suddenly became
ghostly white in the darkness.  Rain and strong lightning were
useless indoors, so she created a focused tunnel of wind to shift
the blue mutant out of her way.

However, Mystique skillfully darted out of the way and morphed
quickly into an exact copy of her teammate.  Storm faced a duplicate
of Sabertooth, equally as vicious and dangerous as the original.

Storm glanced back to Gambit and pointed in the direction of the
dining room.

"Follow them!" she shouted, "Get the girl out!"

Gambit was staring wide eyed at the beautiful blue woman who just
changed into a large cat guy, and nodded to Storm before heading
after Toad.

Mystique charged toward Storm with heavy pounding steps.  Storm felt
the power crackling in her hands and raised one up in a halting
gesture.  Suddenly, Mystique morphed back into her much smaller and
agile self and slid skillfully beneath her attack.  She kicked the
white haired mutant in the stomach and Storm stumbled backward.

She steadied herself against a charred piece of furniture and
reached out toward Mystique, electricity flowing up through her, up
from the ground and impacting a tall metal lamp on the far side of
the room.  The white light blinded her opponent temporarily and she
met the blue mutant head on.

***

As his Brothers battled, Magneto headed quickly out the back of the
house followed by a very angry Pyro.  He was glancing back as he
walked, toward the fighting mutants, and hated that he was being
forced to keep away.

"I can help them!" he shouted as his leader moved across the
grass.

Magneto ignored the boy's demands, focusing instead on finding
the Lady Deathstrike.

"I need you here, Pyro," Magneto said evenly, a contrast to
the fury in his eyes.

Charles, he thought, You just don't give up, do you?  Not even
when one of your children has been killed by your foolish ideals…

"I should be back there!" Pyro shouted again, "I want to
fight!"

Magneto stopped suddenly in his pace and spun toward the boy.  He
loomed over the youngest Brother, and Pyro froze and fell silent
when he looked into the older man's eyes.  They seemed to be
filled with more than one life's share of shadows, and shone with
rage like steel on fire.  Every argument ringing through Pyro's
mind
a moment before disappeared and he recoiled as Magneto began to
speak.

"Do…not…challenge…my…authority…boy," he
said, enunciating every word
with specific intent, "And…do …not question my decisions.
Now…
FOLLOW ME."

Pyro stared at Magneto, for the first time, with real fear.  Any
trace of the older man's simple grace and stateliness vanished
behind his fury.  Magneto glared down at him for another moment,
then turned and continued to march around the house.  Pyro did not
hesitate to keep step behind him, but inwardly was still quaking
from the dark warning.  The rules of the Brotherhood were few, and
Pyro had broken the most important one.  Right now, he was simply
thanking his maker that Magneto's reprimand had been so light.

From around one corner, the biting clash of steel on steel rang
through the darkness, and Magneto grinned broadly.  As he and Pyro
walked, the Lady and the Wolverine came into view.  In the heat of
battle, neither noticed as Magneto raised one hand and took control
of their adamantium bones.

***

Deathstrike grinned viciously as five long claws on one hand slashed
easily into Wolverine's arm.  She twisted her fingers and watched
fresh blood pour from his wounds.

Logan roared from the sudden pain and swung his fist towards her
face.  His three blades impacted one of the metal plates encasing
her skull and ripped through the skin.  Deathstrike reeled from the
blow and stumbled backward.  She glared ferociously at him and felt
her face begin to regenerate.  At the same time, Wolverine's arm
stopped bleeding and the torn muscles returned to their perfect
condition.

"We don't need to do this," Wolverine said in between
deep breaths.

Deathstrike growled at him, "Yes...we do."

"Why?" he asked and she stalked toward him again.  They kept
an even distance apart, pacing in a slow circle as they spoke.

"Stryker was my enemy," she said angrily, "He made me, as
he made you.  But, I was his puppet…I was his slave!  Years of
torture, years of suffering his humiliations and not being able to
do anything but WATCH!"

She held up her hand and pointed her artificial claws toward him.

"And then you…the one other in the world who should have
known.  Who should have understood!  You are blind.  You left me to
die in that lab…that tank…the fucking core of our
NIGHTMARES!"

Wolverine stared at her with disbelief.  At the time, he had not
thought of who she had been, at the time he had only been trying to
save his friends…his family.  She had attacked him on
Stryker's order to kill, an order she could not disobey, and he
had
reacted in turn.  Each of them, in that moment, had been what
Stryker had meant them to be…weapons who killed mutants.

Wolverine shook his head, "I didn't know…"

"Now you do," she replied immediately, "Think of
me…now.  Think of
me…as you die…Brother…"

Deathstrike leapt toward him again, and Wolverine prepared to defend
himself, as she once again left him with no other choice.



As Wolverine tried to move, he found himself frozen in place.
Likewise, Deathstrike hung suspended in the air, fighting against
the invisible hold on her limbs.  She glanced to her left and
noticed Magneto standing nearby.

"Let me go!" she screamed, and Magneto tilted his head
sympathetically.

"Now, now, child," he chided with strange kindness,
"I'm afraid the time had come for us to depart."

Magneto made a soft motion with his hand and the Lady floated to the
ground.  She glared at him in fury, but retracted her claws and
stood at attention.  Unlike Pyro, she was a learned soldier and knew
better than to argue with her commander.

Magneto smiled, "Let your dear Wolverine...think," he said
the word with some doubt, "…about what you've told him
tonight.  Let
your memories haunt someone else tonight…"

Wolverine ground his teeth and fought against Magneto's power as
the
older man stared down at him condescendingly.  He shifted his gaze
back to Deathstrike and her face had become blank and cold.

Think of me… he heard her words in his mind again.



Then, a low hum filled the air.  The wind changed, the cool night
air displaced and drawn upward in an artificial vacuum.  The four
mutants looked into the night sky and saw a new nightmare lowering
slowly to the earth.

The machine was round and narrow, nearly ten feet in diameter, and
hovered above the house.  It seemed to be sectioned into a broken
spiral, and from the edges shone four dim spotlights.  The beams
glowed green, meant to reveal the darkest hiding places.

"What the hell is that?" Pyro said and instinctively opened
his lighter at the sense of new danger.

Magneto and Wolverine exchanged glances, each searching the
other's eyes for some kind of explanation.  When none was found,
Magneto released Wolverine from his power, who stumbled and turned
to better see the unusual aircraft.

Deathstrike glared at her freed enemy and waited for her commander
to speak.

After a moment, the machine rotated and began to change.  The
spiraled sections began to open, folding out upon each other, as it
lowered to the ground.  It spread into a star shape, and its true
form became clear.

Magneto, if none of the other observers, realized what he was
seeing.  Mystique, in one visit to Stryker's offices before
Alkalai Lake, had found blueprints for a machine, a giant machine,
created for one purpose.

To collect and detain so-called "mutant threats."  To gather
Magneto's people…and take them somewhere else…away from
society…segregated into camps…

"No," Magneto said quietly and raised his hand toward the
giant, humanoid shaped machine.  He focused all of his significant
strength toward the robot…the Sentinel…and willed it into his
command.

But, nothing happened.  Whatever the machine was constructed
from...it was not metal.

Before his horror could take hold of him, Magneto ran quickly toward
the house, and the three other mutants followed.

"What are you doing?" Wolverine shouted to his enemy,
"Stop the fucking thing!"

Wolverine then heard something in the other man's voice he had
never heard there before…fear.

Magneto's eyes darkened and filled with hate, "I
can't."

***
Archived at www.fanfiction.net/~leen713

Greetings!  I have created a new yahoo group called
X-Men Lyric Wheel and you are welcome to join.

The group is a forum for writers to create stories
based on random song lyrics sent to them by their
peers.

The group is at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/XMLW/.

The FAQ and posting guidelines are listed under files.

Joining does not require you to write or post stories.
  I am hoping to start the first wheel in about ten
days.

Hope to see you there!

November

=====
~~~~~~~~Miss November Tuesday~~~~~~~
fanfic ~ original erotica ~ true stories
~~~~~~~~~~www.novemberotica.com~~~~~~~~~~

Title: The Suit
Universe: X-Men Movieverse
Author: Staramber
Author's Website: http://staramber.fcpages.com
Summary: A Drabble. Scott likes dressing up.
Feedback: Please
Archiving: As long as you let me know first.
Disclaimer: This all belongs to Fox and Marvel. I make no money from
it.


My name used to be Scott. I used to be a teacher. I used to be
mourning the death of my fiancée.

I took off my tie, undid my belt and unbuttoned my shirt. I put each
layer of clothing carefully on the back of a chair. I dragged the
thick black leather over my skin. I closed my eyes as hard as I
could and removed my glasses. My goggles are a little too tight,
just the way I like them.

The man who I am has no doubt, has suffered no loss. I am Cyclops,
no longer Scott.

It's up, and it's steamy!

N

=====
~~~~~~~~Miss November Tuesday~~~~~~~
fanfic ~ original erotica ~ true stories
~~~~~~~~~~www.novemberotica.com~~~~~~~~~~

Author Note: I've been working on several chapters at once and
finished this one first. You may prefer to put this link aside until
the earlier chapters are posted.

Title: The Player on the Other Side

Characters Ch. 12: Scott/Logan, Rogue, Erik. Jean and Jubilee get
talked about.

Summary Ch. 12: Scott acts out and pays up. He discovers who his real
friends are. He discovers who his real enemies are. Logan gets a
surprise.

Summary WIP: A popular officer is framed for the destruction of
Alkali Base. His friends band together to ruin the mutant they
consider responsible.

Rating Ch. 12: PG-13

http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1615382&chapter=13

Feedback: Feedback is welcome. Critical comments will not be
misinterpreted as a flame.

Author: Rachel Martin

E-Mail: Rachel_martin64@...

Archive: Archive anywhere.

Title: X-Book 2: Shadows and Steel - Chapter 21: Clash

By: Kath713/Leen713

Rating: PG-13 (violence, language)

Genre: Crossover, SPOILERS FOR X2

Summary: See Chpt 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing in regards to the Marvel characters or
any character from a previously published source portrayed in this
story.

***

Chapter Twenty-One:

As the dust and broken pieces of wood and glass settled around him,
Toad kicked a section of the destroyed wall away from his legs, and
cursed angrily through his coughing.  The room was now open to the
clearing night sky, but all of his attention was focused on finding
his opponent.

He shifted the remains of a window frame out of his way as he
crouched among the rubble.  There was no sign of the X-Man, but his
eyes found Rebecca lying on the ruined carpet, staring wide-eyed at
the large, new entrance into her dining room.

Rebecca was moving herself backward along the floor, staying low and
creeping slowly underneath the large dining room table.  She was
gaping upward, a mix of fear and confusion covering her face.

From the other room, a strong commanding voice rang over the noise
of the battling mutants.  Toad turned his head to glance backward
and listen.  It was Magneto's voice.  Why had he returned to the
house while the X-Men were still here?  They, in their condescending
opinion, would need to capture and turn Erik Lensherr over to the
authorities, the one event the Brotherhood sought to avoid at all
costs, even at the risk of their own incarcerations.

He heard Mystique's smooth and silky voice speaking harshly and
the low growling of who could only be the Wolverine cut her off
quickly.

"He's telling you," the Wolverine was suddenly shouting,
"We all have to get out of this house NOW!  There's
something…"

There was a sudden crash from outside and the ground shook
violently.  Toad looked around in surprise.  He glanced over at
Rebecca, who met his eyes and then pointed toward the broken wall.
Her face looked ghostly pale in the dim light, and filling with
terror.

Toad moved his gaze in the direction she was indicating, and noticed
out on the lawn, he could see what looked like a giant leg.  There
was a base, like a foot, and about ten feet from the ground, there
was a large break, a hinge so it could bend.

What the hell? he thought and frowned in confusion.  He began to
move toward Rebecca, as she continued to push herself further into
the room, when the ceiling above them began to crack.

Toad leapt over to the far wall and clung a moment above
Rebecca's head.  She did not seem to notice him, as two great
hands
reached through the hole created by the Cajun X-Man and ripped the
remainders of the second floor from the house.  The fingers folded
in, one at a time, creating a loud crack as they locked into place.

Rebecca's back had hit the wall between the dining room and
kitchen, and all she could do in that moment of panic was stare,
watching the giant hands destroy her home.  In her entire life,
through every bizarre event the Underground or Council had thrown at
her, she never felt more helpless than now.  Her power reacted to
anger and danger, but her own terror was dampening her strength.

As the giant machine tore apart the wall, the second story began to
collapse.  With a quick jump, Toad landed on the floor and lifted
the girl up by the shoulders roughly.  He took a few backward steps
toward the kitchen doorway, and stared upward as the roof fell
away.  Toad saw the machine's face and met its cold shining eyes.

He knew what it was, Magneto had insisted they all be informed of
Mystique's discoveries in Stryker's lab, and Deathstrike had
confirmed the plans for a machine like this.  Seeing it now, the
growing hate he held toward `normal' human beings raged
furiously within him.

His hands gripped tightly on Rebecca's upper arms and Toad heard
her gasp.  She looked backward at him, the quick pain jolting her
back to reality.  Her frightened shock began to fade and Toad saw a
practiced and calm determination taking its place.

Then, from his right, he saw the Cajun X-Man struggling to his feet
from under a pile of rubble.  The urge to shove him down again was
almost overwhelming, but Rebecca moved quicker than he could, and
she helped Gambit stand.

The three mutants moved into the kitchen just as the four green
search lights began to sweep the ruined room.

***

Magneto watched the other mutants freeze as the loud tearing sound
was heard from the other room.  The ceiling began to collapse and
the X-Men moved quickly out of the house.  The Brotherhood, in
practiced and perfect order, awaited his gesture before departing
the crumbling building.

Water sprayed wildly from broken pipes, which Iceman promptly
froze.  It took him a moment to realize Pyro was standing next to
him.  They glanced at each other but did not speak.  There was too
much time, too much pain from the past year that prevented them from
connecting further in that moment of danger.  They would meet again,
each knew, as enemies, but that time was not now.

"Where's Remy?" Iceman asked quickly, looking away from
Pyro and back at Storm.

"He followed Toad," she said, "He was dragging someone
else into the other room.  They must still be inside…"

Magneto seemed not to hear her as she shouted and directed the
Brotherhood to follow him away from the house.  They moved without
question, but Pyro hesitated, glancing between his leader, the
ruined home and the X-Men.  He met Bobby's stare one last time
and then ran after the others.

Cyclops saw the Brotherhood's leaving as a retreat and called the
other X-Men to order.  Wolverine unsheathed his claws and both men
ran toward the machine viciously.

Storm glanced upward toward the sky and felt the electricity surge
through the clouds.  She tried directing that power through the
humanoid machine, but the bolts of lightning would not connect with
its exterior.  She frowned with frustration and followed Wolverine
and Cyclops.

Iceman focused on the `feet,' and coated the ground with a
thick layer of ice.  However, the frozen mass melted quickly, and
puddle at the machine's base.  Bobby made another attempt with
the
same results.

Cyclops began to fire at the machine's hinged joints in rapid
succession.  Each blow seemed to be absorbed by its outer skin,
rather than impacted by the beams of energy that shot from his eyes.

Wolverine slashed into the outer hull and tore downward.  The
machine did not react, and continued to pull apart the home
carefully, almost methodically.  If it had meant to kill, Wolverine
decided it would have already.  This was something different than a
weapon meant to kill.

It was able to resist a variety of mutant attacks; it could have
easily been equipped with a weapon to destroy them where they
stood.  Instead, it was almost searching, examining each attack they
launched with a monstrous curiosity.

After a few more moments of destruction to the home, the machine
straightened its `back' and stood eerily at attention.  The
strange motorized internal sounds grew quiet, and its `chest'
began
to fold in on itself, concaving into its body.

The X-Men positioned themselves in a circle around its `feet'
and prepared for another attack.

Suddenly, from the opened section in its middle, long serpent-like
tentacles flew forth towards the mutants; all of the machine's
slow, focused movements did not exist in the explosive mass of
cylindrical appendages which lunged toward the X-Men with terrifying
speed.

***

"Is the target still priority?" Magneto heard Deathstrike ask
in a cold, monotone voice.  He was drawing cars to him from up and
down block to create a barrier on the front lawn.  Each vehicle
crashed as it piled atop the one before.  He ordered the Brotherhood
to take fighting positions in case they had other enemies
approaching on foot, and finally, spoke loudly.

"The target is still priority," he said, "It seems our
enemies have grown more powerful.  I would hate to make another
tonight...if that child comes to harm."

Pyro frowned, "What do we do about the others inside?"

Magneto turned toward him, and Pyro expected to see the rage there
from before, but the older man smiled confidently.

"Our Brother within can take care of himself," he said,
"He will guard our target.  Meanwhile, your time to fight as a
Brother...may be at hand."

The scattered lights of concerned neighbors had begun to light, but
the earlier sirens had never even reached the street.  Now, the
entire neighborhood fell dark, and the only illumination came from
the Sentinel's large, glowing spotlights.

After another moment, a single set of headlights appeared at the end
of the road, and sped down toward them.  Magneto lifted one hand,
and prepared to destroy the vehicle as it approached and Pyro,
following his commander's warning, opened his lighter in
preparation.

The dark night, however, was not broken by police or military
vehicles.  A single blue Mercedes tore down the road and finally
squealed to a halt in front of the Brotherhood.

From within the car, Sid Malloy stared in horror at the battleground
which had once been his home.

***
Archived at www.fanfiction.net/~leen713

Title: X-Book 2: Shadows and Steel - Chapter 22: No Escape

By: Kath713/Leen713

Rating: PG-13 (violence, language)

Genre: Crossover, SPOILERS FOR X2

Summary: See Chpt 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing in regards to the Marvel characters or
any character from a previously published source portrayed in this
story.

***

Chapter Twenty-Two:

With the two strangers following her, Rebecca bolted through the
ruined kitchen, maneuvering around the appliances lying in twisted
almost unrecognizable shapes and the contents of the refrigerator
that had spilled out onto the floor.  She reached the second
entrance to the room, when a strong hand grabbed her arm again.

"Wait," Toad hissed at her in a whisper and pulled her back.
She shook free of his hold and glared angrily.

Gambit walked up behind them, his eyes still glowing red but filled
with an amused confusion as he stepped over piles of leftover
Chinese food, donuts, pizza...and diet soda.

"We have to get out of here," she replied quietly,
"Before the rest of my house falls on us."

Rebecca began to move and Toad stood in her way, slamming on arm
against the doorway to block her exit.  From the direction of the
Sentinel, they began to hear a bizarre combination of thunder and
explosions over the tearing of wood and glass as the X-Men began
their attack on the machine.

"You don't know what's out there," he argued in a low voice, "Orders
are to get out without gettin' caught."

Rebecca shook her head, and argued back, "Not my orders!  I can
take care of anything that..."

"Magneto's orders!" he interrupted her, "And we're gonna follow
them!  Got it?"

Rebecca looked at him with annoyance and mimicked his earlier
tone, "No."

"Why are you whispering?" Gambit asked over another loud
crash.  He struggled to keep from laughing as Toad and Rebecca
glared at him.

He supposed he should have been more frightened about his situation
(giant killer robot and all), but from the moment he met the X-Men
his life had not made sense.  Why should his first mission with them
be any different?

Another explosion was then followed by a strange silence.  Toad
frowned and stepped back toward the entrance to the dining room.  He
pointed one finger at Rebecca and then looked at Gambit.

"You...don't let 'er go anywhere."

Gambit shrugged, draped his arm over her shoulder comically and gave
her a rough hug.

"Don't worry, mon ami," he replied with a two fingered
salute, "I'm very good at watching the ladies..."

Toad turned around and shook his head.  This Cajun X-Man was either
a rookie or insane€  '¥Toad was not sure which one was worse.

Rebecca rolled her eyes and shrugged Gambit's arm away.  She
headed towards Toad and heard Gambit chuckling, almost manically
behind her.  As she approached, Toad crouched and peered carefully
out into the other room.  The X-Men were circled around the machine,
which had changed shape again.  His large eyes grew wider as the
mass of tentacles burst from the Sentinel's chest cavity.

***

Wolverine shouted a warning to his companions as the serpent-like
extensions of the machine reached for them.  There were at least two
dozen, quick and agile, moving toward their targets with terrifying
precision.

Iceman held out both hands and formed a large wall of ice in front
of the machine.  The tentacles impacted the frozen structure and, to
Bobby's horror, immediately began to tear it to pieces.  The end
of each long strand was different, one for cutting, one for
gripping, one for heating.

Cyclops adjusted his visor to a pinpoint and began firing rapid
controlled shots at each writhing section.  Almost with an
intelligence, the strands divided and began to reach for Cyclops as
well.  Before he could react, they began to wind themselves around
his arms and legs, dragging him forward across the grass.

Storm went to his side, and held him firmly against the machine's
pull.  One of the tentacles hit her in the neck and a sharp pain
made her cry out.  Wolverine ran up to his teammates and began
slashing the tentacles, his adamantium blades easily cutting through
them.  Storm and Cyclops fell to the ground, and Storm's head
lolled to one side, unconscious.  Cyclops pulled the remaining
pieces from his limbs and called out her name anxiously.  He touched
her neck and felt a pulse, slow but steady.

One tentacle had managed to grab Iceman by the neck, and its pointed
end jabbed into his shoulder.  Bobby choked a call for help and then
his eyes closed.  He fell limp and the tentacle loosed its hold and
dropped him to the ground.  Wolverine ran toward the fallen boy and
the tentacle spun toward him.  With a small swipe of his arm,
Wolverine cut the vicious device in two, the live half draw back
into the Sentinel and the dead end being crushed under the
X-Man's foot as he ran on.

The Sentinel began to step forward, crashing into the house and
resuming its destructive search.  Wolverine grabbed Bobby by the
shoulders and pulled him out of the machine's way.  Half way
across the lawn, he found Cyclops dragging Storm toward a
neighboring yard.

"What do we do now, fearless leader?" Logan asked sarcastically and
Scott glared at him.

"I'm open to any suggestions!" he shot back and then looked back
at
the machine, "It's looking for someone."

"Where's Magneto?" Logan asked, "He couldn't stop that thing
with
his power.  Look," he held up one broken tentacle, "Means this shit
isn't metal.  Means someone knew enough to build a robot out of
something he couldn't control."

"We have to get Bobby and Storm to the jet," Cyclops said.

Wolverine nodded and then sniffed the air, "Fast...whoever's
controllin' Mr. Roboto over there is close..."

***

Sid Malloy stared out at his house with horror.  On the lawn, there
was a small black jet, half a dozen strange looking people, a pile
of ruined cars...and from behind the house, what looked like a
giant head.

Oh, crap, Sebastian's gonna kill Becca, he thought and then his
mind continued, I shouldn't get out of the car.  All normal people
would just speed off...

He then noticed in the dim light the naked blue woman on his lawn
and a hysterical giggle bubbled from his throat.

No...I should go see if Becca, and the naked chick, need my help.

He knew Rebecca's response without her even being near him,
You're so fucking chivalrous, Sid.

He waited another moment, and took a few deep breaths before opening
the car door.

A voice rang across the lawn and Sid squinted to see the speaker.

"Good evening, Mr. Malloy," Magneto called, "You may want to get out
of the road if you wish to live."

From either end of the street, groups of headlight began to surround
the block.  From a short distance away, the thumping sounds of
helicopters filled the air.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked, and then jumped in surprise
as his car began to float into the air.  He reached out one hand and
tried to pull it down by focusing on the glass windows and lights.
The car wavered, as if the force moving it had not expected
resistance, but the Mercedes continued to move across the front
yard.  Sid focused on the glass and the windows shattered outward.
He gathered the pieces to him as his car was dropped rudely on the
barrier of automobiles.

"My name is Erik Lensherr," the voice called again, "And I'm
afraid
your sister is in great danger."

"So what else is new?" Sid replied sarcastically but moved
quickly toward the older man, "You're Magneto."

With a nod, he replied, "Yes.  I'm afraid your home has been
attacked by a machine known as a Sentinel.  I believe it has been
created to...collect mutants.  I fear there are military forces
closing in on this vicinity.  We will hold them off to give you time
to escape."

Sid stared at the man with mistrust, shards of glass hovering around
him threateningly, "Why?  Why would they attack us?"

Magneto's face filled with false sympathy, "Perhaps...because of
who
your mother is."

The younger man gaped at Magneto as he continued.  A few pieces of
the broken glass fell to the ground as Sid's concentration
faltered.

"I knew her," he continued, "Before you were born.  There
are many who sought to capture her in the past.  Considering the
temperament of certain parties towards mutants, say the SHOP for
example, they may try to use you and your sister to find her
again..."

From behind Sid's back, Mystique was staring wide-eyed at Magneto
as he spoke.  The words were not entirely lies; however, Erik
Lensherr knew how to use the truth, in the right words, to his
advantage.  He simply did not tell Sid that the Brotherhood had
initiated tonight's visit with the Malloy family.

"When we learned of the approaching danger," Magneto continued, "We
dispatched to warn you.  I'm afraid, we were too late..."

Sid looked toward his ruined house and Magneto studied his
expression.  It faded from angry, to concerned, to something quite
sad.  Inwardly, Magneto knew the young man would not entire trust
them, but he believed them.

Mom, Sid thought sadly, I guess I'm not the only one who thinks
you're still alive...

Magneto allowed the young man a moment to take in the truth of the
situation and waited for him to reply.

"Where's my sister?" Sid finally said, and met Magneto's gaze
firmly, "If you mean to help us, we'll fight with you."

Magneto heard the screech of tires and turned to face the
approaching enemy.

"Go...now..." he said to Sid, "She is in the house, with another of
our people.  Find them...and come back to me."

Sid nodded and ran toward the house, no longer doubting Magneto's
kind sincerity.  He was not a demon or vampire, after all.  He was
just another human being, threaten by the same people who drove
their mother into hiding.  And, Sid would not let his mother...or
his sister...fall into the SHOP's hands again.

***

As Toad stepped backward into the kitchen, he bumped into Rebecca
sitting behind him and sneered at her viciously.

"Bloody hell!" he shouted, and then glared at Gambit, "I told you
not to let her go anywhere."

Gambit shrugged, "She didn't.  She is here."

Rebecca raised her arms into the air exasperated, "Hello!  My
house!  Yet, NOW...more of an asylum than EVER!  And that's
saying A
LOT!"

With a frustrated growl, Toad stood and began to drag Rebecca toward
the other door.  Gambit followed after them and heard the growing
sound of metal scraping against metal.

"Stop it!" Rebecca shouted, and a wave of heat rolled down
her limbs.  Toad hissed in pain as the heat reached his hand.

"We have to go...NOW!" he shouted, and the scraping noises
reached the inner walls of the house.

"What's going on out there?" she shouted again, and before Toad
could reply, the kitchen wall began to shake and splinter.

From the other side, the tentacles began to snake through the open
doorway and reach for them.  Rebecca screamed as the giant hands of
the Sentinel tore apart the room and more tentacles poured from its
chest.

The three mutants ran toward the front hallway, and the writhing
appendages followed.  Gambit felt something cold wrap around his
legs and he fell to the floor with a cry of surprise.  He grabbed
the machine and focused his energy through his hands.  The tentacle
began to glow with power and he released it.  A moment later, the
result explosion destroyed several of the reaching limbs, but also
scorched one of his ankles.

At the same time, Rebecca was shoved forward out of one
attacker's
path, and turned to see the machine wrap around Toad's waist.  He
kicked at the machine futilely, unable to hit the writhing strand
with the full force of his legs.  Rebecca ran up to him and pulled
him backward.  The strand yanked at him and she lost her grip.  A
new mass of tentacles crashed through the ceiling and wrapped around
Rebecc's lower arms.

Big mistake, she thought as the power leapt in defense against the
danger.  She reached upward and a small ball of fire burst from her
palm.  The tentacle holding her disintegrated and she directed her
outstretched hand toward Gambit and Toad.

Two more fireballs connected with the mass of machines and destroyed
most of them.  Before she could draw it back, the remaining walls
began to burn and the front door blew off its hinges.  Toad slammed
one powerful leg down on a remaining piece and it shattered.

"Becca!" Sid's voice called from outside and she felt relief wash
through her, dampening the fire within.

"Sid!  In here!" she called, "We're coming out..."

Rebecca did not get to finish the statement.  As her back was
turned, a new group of tentacles, twice as many as before, rushed up
the hall and attacked them.

Three snaking limbs wrapped around her shoulders and she screamed
again.  Gambit was pushing himself up the hall with his unwounded
leg, and was also caught by the machines.  A larger arm reached for
him and injected Gambit in the arm with the same substance that had
knocked out Iceman and Storm.

Toad leapt toward the front door and landed on one squirming arm.
Again, the machine did not snap or bend, but shattered.  He felt new
tentacles wrapping around his legs and he tumbled next to Rebecca,
the wind knocked out of his lungs.  He was pulled backward and
Rebecca grabbed him by one arm.  He looked up in surprise before a
needle hit him in the back.  Before closing his eyes, he felt her
holding his hand tightly and saw her reaching her other hand back
toward the front door.

Why doesn't the bloody woman just let me go? He thought before
passing into darkness.

Sid was running toward the house, and reached for his sister's
hand.

A sharp pain stabbed into Rebecca's neck and her arm dropped as
she fell unconscious.

Her brother's hand only grazed her fingers as she was pulled away.

***
Archived at www.fanfiction.net/~leen713

Hi all,

This is a very old (more than 3 years old) fic that people have requested I
posted from time to time and now I'm finally doing so.

Hope you will enjoy it:

The Pain Of Yesterday

By Nadja Lee          03-11-2000

English is not my native language. Please forgive me my mistakes.

Disclaimer: “X-men” and all the characters here belong to Marvel, 20 Century Fox
and I intend no infringement, this is a piece of amateur fan fiction, and I make
no money of it.

Only the original idea contained within this work is the property of the author.
Please do not copy this story to any website or archive without permission of
the author.

Timeline: Set a little after the movie

Universe: Set in the movie universe. Only the movie NOT the book that goes with
it!

Pairing: None really, but if you want to see it then we have very mild
Scott/Jean and Logan/Rogue

Summary: A young girl is brought to the mansion and Scott may be the only one
who can help her.

Archiving: Want, ASK, take, have.

Feedback: Yes, please. My e-mail address is neh@....

Rating: PG-13

Series: Part 1 in Pain Series but can easily be read as a stand-alone.

Thanks to Nancy for the Beta. You’re the best! *hugs*

Thanks to Cristina for the read through and encouragement.

Warning: Deals with child abuse.

*mmmm * is telepathically spoken in the mind. “ mmmmm ”  is spoken out loud.  //
mmm //  indicates flashback.

Author’s notes: Another VERY old fic I forgot all about. Hope it isn’t so bad
that I should have let it stay lost *laughs*

This is for everyone who wrote me and told me to get a move on and just post
this fic already! Thanks, guys.



Part 1:

“So, she still hasn’t spoken?” Xavier asked Scott, his voice serious and
concerned as he looked at Scott from the other side of his desk in his office.
He had called Scott to his office to hear if the newest mutant to have arrived
at the mansion, a young girl named Sarah, was doing better. He had been
concerned with her lack of verbal response as well as any signs of attachment to
her surroundings upon her arrival but he had hoped she would get better when she
became more familiar with the school.

“No, Sir.”

The reply held an edge of concern but the words were automatic. Xavier smiled at
the young man who was like a son to him.

“I have told you repeatedly to just call me Charles.”

“I…I can’t do that,” Scott said uncomfortably and looked at his feet. It would
bring Xavier too close to him; bring about an end to his defences…He couldn’t
explain to himself nor to Xavier why it was such a hard thing for him to do, why
it mattered so much, but it did.

  I can’t. Please don’t ask it of me, he thought desperately.

“It’s ok, Scott,” Xavier said in a smoothing tone, having read his thoughts.
“Maybe if you talked with her…” Xavier began, knowing Scott had been avoiding
the young girl who had just been brought to them.

“Isn’t Jean better for that?” Scott asked, his voice holding a pleading edge.

“She doesn’t have your personal experiences in this.”

He saw the flicker of pain that fell over Scott’s face before he could repress
it and added more kindly. “I know you can do it. She reminds me of you in many
ways.”

*And that is why you have been avoiding her*, Xavier sent to him.

“I would rather not,” Scott said softly. He had worked so hard to try and forget
his past; he didn’t wish to be reminded of it now.

“Do this. It’ll do you good,” Xavier said with a final edge to his voice, hating
to play it the hard way but knowing that Scott wouldn’t agree to his suggestion
unless he really insisted.

“Yes, sir,” Scott simply said and turned to leave, never even considering not to
do as Xavier asked of him.

*I love you, son,* Xavier sent to Scott, wanting to take the commanding edge out
of his suggestion that Scott talked with Sarah. He wouldn’t have insisted if not
he thought it would do them both good. Through Scott’s feelings the words And I
you, father, formed before he left Xavier’s office. Xavier smiled, knowing it
was words Scott could never bring himself to actually speak nor say due to the
scars his own childhood had left in him. But as a telepath, sensing the words in
Scott’s emotions were more than enough.

Scott went in search of Sarah, the new girl, who had the mutant power of unusual
quick bone growth inside and also outside her body. She was 16 years old and her
mutation gave her an unusually gothic beauty but it wasn’t the only reason why
she wasn’t hard to find. She was the only one not participating in Logan’s game
of soccer that he had arranged for the children this Saturday. She sat on a
bench and looked at the other children playing.

“Can I sit here?” Scott asked and Sarah merely nodded. “So, who is winning?”
Scott asked her and she pointed to the red team with Rogue on it. Scott smiled
despite himself. Logan was the only judge in the game and Scott suspected Logan
of “overlooking” more mistakes on Rogue’s team than on the other.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them. Scott did not know what to say to
her. She was a symbol of all the things he had worked so hard to forget.

“So, have you finished the mathematics report for class tomorrow?” Scott finally
said, not knowing what else to say. His mutant abilities had helped him excel in
that subject and he often sought to drive conversations towards subjects in
which he knew he had the upper hand when he was nervous or insecure.

Good job. Talk about work, why don’t you?? She is sure to start talking of sheer
excitement over a mathematical problem, Scott thought darkly to himself,
mentally yelling at himself for his stupidity. She merely nodded, her eyes on
the game before her. The silence stretched out between them until it felt like a
physical presence between them. It all became too much for Scott and he almost
ran away from Sarah. He went to the garage to work on his bike, which he often
did when he was frustrated.

  He fought to hold the memories back as he knelt beside his bike, running a
loving hand over it. He picked up a rag and began to polish it, his thoughts
running awry. Despite his mental command for his thoughts to stay in a black
state, images he wished he could forget began to dance before his mind’s eye.



//

  “You ungrateful bastard. Do you have any idea how much money you cost me?”

//



Scott began furiously polishing the side of his bike as if he could rub the pain
and memory away.



//

“ I shall teach you how to show respect!”

“ Don’t. Please…Leave me alone.”

  //



He rubbed viciously, not noticing the tears that had begun to run down his face
as he remembered the feeling of pain and humiliation that the memories brought
with them.



  //

“This will teach you!” slap

“Don’t!!” slap

“ You’re nothing, you hear me, boy?? Nothing!”  slap

“ Please stop...*sob*” slap

“ You’re nothing, y’hear? A freak.  A fucking One-Eyed freak!”

/ /



Angrily Scott flung the rag across the room.

“Damn! Damn! Damn!” he said hotly and retrieved the rag but couldn’t continue
his work. Instead he went inside the mansion.  He heard voices in the kitchen
and went in there, hoping that company would drive his memories away. Sarah and
Logan were there and Scott looked at the list of who should make dinner and saw
it was their turn.

“Can I help?” Scott asked. Sarah turned quickly around towards him, apparently
startled, for she lost her grip on the plate she was holding and it shattered
against the floor, breaking into a million pieces.

“Hey, watch it,” Logan grunted. Sarah backed frightened away from his angry tone
and quickly bent to the floor, beginning to collect the pieces of the broken
plate. Scott bent down and began helping her.

“It’s ok. He wouldn’t hurt you,” Scott whispered to her as he saw fear in her
eyes. When the pieces had been collected and no punishment was forthcoming she
looked confused, yet less fearful. She took out a new plate and went to put it
on the table in the living room but as she was to leave she looked questioningly
at Scott and he nodded and smiled reassuringly, understanding her silent
question. “It’s ok. You can leave. There’s nothing more you need to help with.”

She gave a very small smile and left.

“She sure is jumpy,” Logan said and looked after her.

“Yeah,” Scott replied softly, lost in not-so-pleasant thoughts. “ So, what are
we having?” Scott asked with forced cheerfulness.

“I don’t know,” Logan admitted and took off the lid of a steaming pot and looked
down into it. “Some kind of meat.”



Part 2:

“Sarah, your report was very good,” Scott said as he handed her report back to
her in class two weeks later. She smiled at him. Normally he didn’t tell one
student that they were good in front of the rest of the class but he made an
exception with Sarah. He knew from experience how important positive feedback
was. The bell rang and the class scattered.

“ Remember; pages 45-55. ‘Till next time,” Scott yelled after them. He sighed as
he saw Sarah walk out alone. He still hadn’t been able to make her talk, though
admittedly he hadn’t tried more than a handful of times and the conversation had
never left the trivial stage. He knew what he had to do but he just didn’t have
the courage yet because it was as if as long as he didn’t voice it out loud he
could pretend it had never happened.

“Where is Sarah?” Scott asked Rogue later that day, having decided to try yet
one more time to see if he couldn’t get those words that spoke of memories he
would rather forget past his lips. He owed it to her to try.

“In her room, Ah think,” she answered. Scott frowned. Sarah spent far too much
time alone. He had to talk with her; there was no more time for his own fears.
Determined, he went to her room and knocked on the door.

“Sarah? It’s Scott. May I come in?” When she did not open the door Scott got
worried. “Sarah, please open the door. Are you ok?” Still no answer but he heard
a faint sound of sniffling. “That’s it. I’m coming in.”

With ease Scott broke the locked door in with a well placed kick and found Sarah
crumpled up in one corner of the room, hugging her knees and looking very
fragile with tears running down her face but with eyes that seemed far away.
“Ah, Sarah,” Scott said softly, his voice thick with emotions at seeing her so
lost as he neared her slowly. “I mean you no harm. I will only help you,” he
said smoothly. She watched him come towards her but when he was just one meter
from her, she began shrinking further into the corner in fright. Scott stopped
and sat down on the floor.

“No one will hurt you here, Sarah. Please believe me.” She didn’t answer, just
looked at him with slightly dazed eyes. Scott took a deep breath, knowing he had
to talk now. She had only been at the mansion for three weeks; why should she
believe words she had probably heard many times before only to find they were
untrue? She needed the truth; a truth she could relate to. “I know how you feel.
You’re confused and don’t trust us.” Still no reply. “ I know because I’ve been
there.”

Now she looked at him, truly looked at him, and Scott forced himself to
continue. “I can’t promise you the pain will disappear because it never will but
it will fade. And you are safe here. Whoever hurt you can’t find you here.”

She looked at him with big tearful eyes and Scott added, “I’ll take care of you.
Together we can make it,” she moved just the slightest bit towards him and he
tried to contain his happiness. “You see, I need your help,” his words were soft
and serious.

“You…need…me???” Sarah asked brokenly, disbelief clear in her voice and Scott
smiled softly, his heart jumping in happiness because he had made her talk.

“Yes, I do. I need you to help me to cope with my own pain.” He slowly reached
out a hand towards her but didn’t try and grab her. “And I think you need my
strength to move on,” he added kindly.

Sarah looked at his hand and slowly, carefully, laid her own smaller hand in
his. He did not close his hand around it. She looked questioningly at him.

“ I would never do anything to you that you haven’t asked me to,” he whispered,
remembering how he had feared any adult’s touch for so long. Even when Xavier
had touched his hand, he would wince. She smiled softly and gently closed his
fingers over her hand with her other hand and went towards him. Tryingly she
stopped before him and when he did not reach for her she went into his embrace
and cried on his shoulder. Cried for so many years of fear and loneliness. Scott
stroked her hair in a soothing manner and mumbled calming words to her and did
not realise that he was crying too, for her but also for himself. Often the only
one to cry for you is yourself but today Scott cried for Sarah as well.



Part 3:

“She seems to be doing fine,” Xavier commented as he looked out at Sarah in the
garden from his office window eight months later.

“Yes, sir,” Scott said and smiled slightly. He had come to love the girl a great
deal. She was like the daughter he would never have. The thought made him
flinch. He of course understood Jean’s reasons for not wanting children; they
had dangerous lives and hectic jobs, just to mention a few. Another reason was
that the child might inherit his deadly eyes and he didn’t want any child to go
through what he had, but still he loved children. A part of him still hoped that
Jean might change her mind one day, even though she was a modern career woman
and children did not fit into her schedule. Besides she had enough children, she
said. She had the school and he could understand that and knew that Xavier felt
that way as well.

“She is very fond of you,” Xavier said with a smile.

“I know.”

Scott turned to leave but then looked back at Xavier and did something that he
had never done before. He knelt by Xavier’s chair and hugged the other man.

“I love you,” Scott whispered softly, finally saying the words he had never
spoken before to anyone after he had arrived at the mansion. Then he quickly got
up and left the room, almost as if he was afraid over his own emotions finally
shining through. Xavier smiled warmly after him, happy to know that Scott had
come a step closer to repairing the damage he had been subjected to as a child.
Knowing Scott would worry whether or not his confession would be used against
him and knowing of his feelings of insecurity, Xavier send a simple but warm
mental message to him.

* I love you too, my son*

Xavier knew that Scott had survived his childhood by keeping everyone at a
distance. Still to this day his childhood had left scars so deep that Xavier had
feared he would never allow anyone to love him or be loved back. Helping Sarah
had led to helping himself, too, as Xavier had hoped. It wasn’t like Xavier, or
Jean for that matter, ever doubted the depth of Scott’s love for them because,
as telepaths, his love was as clear to them as if he had written a sign for them
to read. Non- telepathic people, however, would often mistake his defences as
coldness, which was far from the truth. Scott was one of the most sensitive
people he knew. Maybe, just maybe, Scott now had the courage to try and open up
to people. That thought made Xavier’s smile stay on his lips for a long time,
feeling he had come so much closer to having truly saved Scott for often it is
the soul that needs the most saving and healing and not the body.



The End

It's up.  Rogue defends her thesis.  Will they
graduate her?

=====
~~~~~~~~Miss November Tuesday~~~~~~~
fanfic ~ original erotica ~ true stories
~~~~~~~~~~www.novemberotica.com~~~~~~~~~~

Title: Persona Non Grata
Author: Jordanna Morgan
Author’s Email: librarie@...
Archive Rights: Please request the author’s consent.
Rating/Warnings: G.
Characters: Logan, an original X-kid, and two special guests.
Setting: General for X-Men; decades after the series end for "Dark Shadows".
Summary: An X-Men/Dark Shadows crossover. Logan tracks a mutant runaway to
Collinsport, Maine.
Disclaimer: Marvel, Fox, and Dan Curtis Productions create the characters
that sell. Not me.
Notes: X-fans should understand this story without particular knowledge of
"Dark Shadows", but I’m not as sure of the reverse. I may be wrong in the
geographical details of Collinsport, and if so, I apologize.
HTML Version: http://www.jordanna.net/librarie/xmen/fiction/persona.htm



Persona Non Grata



All things considered, I’ve got a good life at Xavier’s mutant school.

Sure, it’s noisy, it’s crazy, and there’s no hazard pay for all that
"extracurricular" work--but when it comes down to it, I like what I’ve
gotten in return. I don’t just mean the room and board, either; it’s nice
to feel like what I’m doing is the right thing.

Well, most of the time, at least.

Sometimes doing the right thing ain’t easy, though. That’s why, of all the
chores I get saddled with, playing truant officer is at the very bottom of
the list.

Tommy "Crash" Krieger crashed into our lives as a moody sixteen-year-old
with a taste for hard liquor and a chip on his shoulder the size of
Montana. Of course, any schoolyard runt who suddenly pops out with
telekinetic powers is bound to have an attitude, but you gotta draw the
line somewhere. Like, say, when he tries to choke the neighborhood bully
from half a block away.

It was after that little incident that Professor Xavier, playing Big
Brother again, tagged the kid as a high-risk case and sent Storm and
Cyclops to meet him. Tommy liked the idea of a school where he could learn
more about his nifty new powers, and he was as happy to play along as his
single mother was to get him off her hands. (Thanks, Ma. Real supportive.)

So Tommy came to live at the school, and things were just peachy--until he
started getting the drift of the house rules. No booze. No cigarettes. *No*
making out with the co-eds. Things went downhill pretty fast from there…
and a week later, the kid lammed it during the night.

Don’t get me wrong; nobody would ever be forced to stay at Xavier’s. We had
to do *something* about him, though, just for the sake of public safety.
There’s a lot less dangerous mutations than the ability to throw things
around just by thinking about it.

The Professor wired into Cerebro and tracked Tommy to a spot on the coast
of Maine. We figured he got lost or ran out of money on the way to the
Canadian border--and I started to regret the stories I’d told him about my
old stomping grounds.

Oh yeah, that’s a part I haven’t mentioned: Tommy *liked* me. And why not?
We shared a lot of bad habits. I wasn’t exactly proud of that, but I tried
to take advantage of it. When he hung around me, I’d let him have a cigar
on the sly while I talked about playing by the rules. It was a mixed
message, but I hoped the things I said would stick if I let him have a
little fun.

They didn’t, and the only result was that I got pegged as Tommy’s best friend.

Naturally, that made me the number-one choice to go find the little twerp
and bring him back. Xavier told me I wouldn’t be "threatening" to Tommy. He
might not have thought so if he’d been tuned into my thoughts just then.

I was still thinking black thoughts that evening, when I followed the
Professor’s directions to a moldering little seaside town called Collinsport.



It wasn’t the first time I’d hit town and made a beeline for the local bar,
but it *was* the first time I wasn’t after a drink… not immediately, at
least. Underage or not, Tommy could already swill with the best of them,
and I had a hunch he was feeling pretty dry after a week at the school.

Collinsport was a strange, gloomy place where everything looked old, even
the newer buildings crowded in between Colonial relics. The main business
was a fish cannery that ran a fleet of boats from the rocky coast. Employer
number two, I figured, was the sanitarium on the cliffs overlooking the
sea. After half an hour in that town, I had a feeling I’d go crazy too if I
had to live there.

The one redeeming spot was the Blue Whale, a nice rickety dive on the
waterfront that smelled like beer and fish and dry-rotting wood. *That*
place I understood. I walked in and headed for the nearest end of the bar,
ignoring the working joes who looked up at me suspiciously. I’d already
noticed that strangers got a lot of stares in Collinsport.

Then again, maybe it was just me.

The bartender was an unhappy-looking old man with gray hair and a red face.
He turned to me, nervous and impatient, as I reached the bar.

"I’m looking for a missing boy," I began. "Sixteen, kinda messy brown hair,
gold stud in his left ear…"

My spiel trailed off as the wide-eyed bartender turned and pointed down the
bar. I looked--and there at the other end sat Tommy Krieger, his chin
hanging down over a glass of something that definitely wasn’t soda. When he
saw me staring at him, he smiled drowsily and raised the glass in a tipsy
salute.

I turned on the bartender. "What’d you give him booze for?"

"Hey, *you* just try saying no to that kid!" the man shot back in a scared
half-whisper.

Tommy had obviously been throwing around his weight, and probably a few
more things for good measure. I growled in my throat and stalked toward him.

"Don’t worry, bub… that’s exactly what I plan to do."

As I reached him, Tommy tried to sit up straighter on his barstool--and
nearly fell right off. "Hello, P’fesser Logan." He righted himself slowly
and carefully. "You come t’ have a drink with me?"

I sat down on the barstool next to him. "No. And *no*, you can’t have a
cigar," I snapped, as he reached over and groped for the pocket of my
jacket. I pushed him back onto his own stool and pried the glass out of his
hand. "I’m here to take you back to the school."

His pale face got a little darker. "Not goin’ back. S’no fun there."

"Life ain’t all fun, kid." I leaned closer, lowering my voice. "Especially
for us."

He looked at me as if I’d just told him the sky was orange. "Why shouldn’t
it be fun? I can have anythin’ I want. All I hafta do is just reach out an’…"

With that Tommy stretched out a hand, and someone else’s whiskey glass slid
down the bar into his grasp. The owner of the drink jumped up with an angry
yelp.

Groaning inwardly, I stood up and raised my hands. "Sorry, bub, just a
misunderstanding…" I snatched the glass, slid it down the bar to its
rightful owner, then took the kid by the arm and hauled him out of his
seat. "C’mon, we’ll talk about this outside."

"No!" Tommy wrenched his arm away from me, his glazed eyes taking on an
unhealthy sort of brightness. "I wanna stay right here an’ finish my drink."

I sighed and put my hands together, cracking my knuckles with a metallic
*pop*. "Look, I really don’t wanna carry you out of here, kid."

Tommy’s eyes narrowed, and on the shelf behind the bar, liquor bottles
began to rattle.

*Oh, nuts*.

The bartender must have gotten a taste of Tommy’s powers before I arrived,
because he was smart enough to duck before the bottles went flying. The
booze-numbed patrons were slower to hit the deck, but they all managed to
avoid a direct impact, crawling under tables as glass smashed against the
walls and floor.

Now I understood why the kid was nicknamed *Crash*.

I was less lucky than the barflies; I took a stray bottle of scotch upside
the head. It couldn’t do me any real damage, but it hurt… and it was annoying.

With a snarl, I popped the claws.

Tommy had never seen me do *that* before, and it was enough to get through
to his pickled brain. With a high-pitched squawk of terror, he bolted, a
covering fire of bottles and glasses raining down on the floor in his wake.

In the dead silence that followed the last crash, I pulled back the claws
and looked around. The shelves behind the bar were wiped out, and the floor
was coated with spilled liquor and broken glass. Loose shards clinked and
crunched as the shell-shocked bystanders started to move, crawling out of
their hiding places. I wasn’t sure how much any of them had seen.

Terrific--ousted for life from yet another bar.

Chewing over the numbers for the anonymous "gift" Professor Xavier would be
paying out in restitution, I casually breezed out the door. I heard the
bartender yell something behind me, but I didn’t exactly feel like stopping
to exchange pleasantries.

Outside in the darkness and bracing sea air, my luck started to change. I
caught a whiff of Tommy’s scent, laced with a shot of Johnnie Walker that
must have doused him during his tantrum. Now, *that* was a trail I would
have no trouble following.

With one last glance over my shoulder to check for angry villagers carrying
pitchforks and torches, I set off in search of the walking bar brawl named
Crash.



Tommy’s sense of direction was about as clear as the rest of his thinking
just then, and for the next hour, I followed the scent trail of his drunken
meanderings. It wound through alleys, over fences, and into yards, finally
leading to a crop of woods on private property. That was good with me; in
the forest at night, the kid wouldn’t have a chance of losing me. I
expected to find him before long, bundled up in his denim jacket and
shivering in the October chill.

What I was going to do when I *did* find him was another story.

In the time I’d spent with Tommy at the school, I was too busy playing nice
to try to explain my hardware. Now that he’d gotten a good look at the
claws, I might have to convince him he wasn’t a prime candidate for a
disemboweling--even if the idea *did* have a certain appeal just then.

I got distracted from that little problem when I realized there was a new
smell in the air, aside from Tommy’s alcoholic trail and the natural scents
of the forest. It was subtle, but it was there; human, but… not right. I
couldn’t pin down its direction, and I wasn’t even sure how recent it was.

"You are intruding on my property."

Not many things can take me by surprise, but *that* did. I spun sideways
and almost popped the claws, but held back before I could put a hole in the
phantom that had just stepped out of the shadows. Sneaking up on me without
my smelling or hearing him was a cute trick, however he did it.

He was tall, middle-aged, a little cadaverous-looking in a graceful
way--pale and dark at the same time, with cold eyes under heavy brows. His
clothes were mostly hidden under the coat or cape or whatever it was he was
wearing, but I caught a glimpse of a suit-jacket cuff above the hand that
rested on a cane. Pretty formal for a guy wandering around in the woods at
night, but not as interesting as the fact that he didn’t have a flashlight.
Or apparently need one, for that matter.

I also realized he was the source of that off scent I’d picked up. Now that
he was standing there, I could tell, but I wasn’t any closer to figuring
out what was so strange about it.

While I was sizing him up, he took a step closer… and then he posed,
unconsciously, like a stalking cat. His hand slid further down the cane,
exposing its gold wolf’s-head in a way that was almost ironic. The whole
shift of his body was one single, elegant movement--the defensive posture
of a perfect animal instinct that resonated with my own.

My pulse rate picked up, and I tensed, everything in me reacting to the
presence of a fellow predator.

Something in his eyes told me he appreciated the unspoken signals, but he
didn’t back down. Instead he went even further.

"Your kind is unwelcome here. You must leave Collinsport."

Surprised and annoyed, I deliberately relaxed, sending the message that I
wasn’t going anywhere until I was good and ready. "My *kind*?"

"You know very well what I mean." He had quite a voice, deep and strong; it
stayed hard, but the tension in his own muscles loosened up a little,
following my lead. It looked like we were going to talk instead of fight,
after all--and I had a sudden feeling that was a *very* good thing.

I decided to tip my hand, acknowledging what he knew about me, and what I
sensed about him. "Mutants? And just what does that make *you*, bub?"

I didn’t think he *was* a mutant… not exactly, anyway… and somehow his
reaction convinced me I was right. All at the same time, there was
something angry and sad and even a little frightened in his eyes. He looked
away from me, but it was too late to hide it.

"I am the protector of this town." His voice was quieter now, with a kind
of broken dignity, and the predator in him was gone when he looked at me
again. "Many years ago, I took it upon myself to protect Collinsport and
its people from any threat that may come… and that includes mutants."

All the ingrained tolerance-philosophy lectures I’d ever wallowed in at the
school came to the surface, and I gave the man a hard look. "We don’t want
to hurt anyone. We just want to live normal lives…" I went out a little
further on the limb of morbid curiosity, and added, "like you."

He smiled at that, a sad, bitter smile.

"Believe me, I understand that wish better than anyone. I have every
sympathy for your kind." He sighed and shook his head. "Still, you bring
about violence--even if it comes only from those who hate and fear you. It
isn’t your fault, but it cannot be escaped… and I will not allow it here."

Part of me wanted to be angry at that kind of attitude, but something about
him blunted the feeling. Maybe it was the genuine regret in his voice;
maybe it was the sense that he was also an outsider. Or maybe it was
because, even if I didn’t like to admit it… I understood what it felt like
to want to protect others.

To protect them from things like me.

"Look, it’s not like I’m planning to move into the neighborhood," I said
gruffly. "I’m just looking for a kid who ran away. Once I find him, we’ll
both be out of here."

"Another like you?" he asked, sounding surprised, but not alarmed.

The way he phrased it put me off, and I frowned. God help the whole world
if any more like *me* ever showed up again--but I kept that thought to
myself, and answered with a shrug. "He’s a mutant, if that’s what you mean."

I wasn’t sure what kind of reaction I expected, but it wasn’t what I got.
The man’s expression went stiff, and he folded his long pale hands over the
top of his cane.

"In that case, I will find him for you."

It wasn’t an offer, and it wasn’t a threat. It was a statement; a straight
fact, without a doubt in the world. I gave him a skeptical look. "Simple as
that, huh?"

"I found *you*, didn’t I?"

I couldn’t argue that point--but unlike me, a drunk, telekinetic teenager
probably wasn’t going to give him much chance for polite conversation.
"Look, you don’t know what the kid can do."

He ignored the warning as if I hadn’t said a word. "Come up to my house in
the morning, and I promise you, your young friend will be safely returned
to you there. For now, I would suggest you stay the night at the
Collinsport Inn. Give the clerk my name, and you will be well provided for."

He turned to walk away.

"Wait," I said, taking a step after him. "What *is* your name?"

He looked back at me, and I saw something of the predator in his face again
as he smiled.

"I am Barnabas Collins."



Whatever he was or wasn’t, Barnabas Collins had just as good a disappearing
act as Nightcrawler. I tried to track him after he stalked off into the
woods, but I couldn’t even pin down a scent trail.

I wasn’t about to take his advice and call it a night. For one thing, after
that little party at the Blue Whale, I was none too eager to show my face
back in town. For another, no matter what Collins said, I had a feeling
Tommy would be a lot better off if I found him first. So I just kept
searching.

There were times that night when I was sure Collins was somewhere nearby,
watching me.

By sunrise, I was pretty well resigned to the fact that Tommy had shaken me
off in my own best element. I figured he’d be hungry by then, and decided
my best bet to find him would be somewhere back in town, looking for a meal.

Even so, I decided to check at Collins’ house first.

In the distance there was a huge, rambling old house that rivaled the
Xavier mansion for size and grandeur, but I had a feeling the relic I came
to first was more Collins’ style. It was the most ancient place I’d seen
anywhere in that moth-eaten town. Even in the morning light, it looked cold
and dark, the whole face of it lost in the shadows of its giant crumbling
columns.

At the front door I reached for a pompous-looking doorknocker, but I felt
too silly about it and thumped on the old wood with my knuckles instead.
Nothing happened for a long moment, but as I was reaching up to knock
again, the door opened.

The man who stood there was tall and dark-haired--but other than that, he
was about as different from Barnabas Collins as he could be. He was young
and looked like a movie star, with blue eyes that would grab anybody’s
attention. I knew he wasn’t a servant; his clothes were sharp, and he was
wearing too much of some expensive cologne that threatened to make me sneeze.

He didn’t smile, but his expression was a lot warmer than the other man’s
had ever been.

"Barnabas Collins asked me to pay him a visit," I began.

He nodded once. "I’m afraid my cousin Barnabas couldn’t be here, so he
asked me to meet you instead. I’m Quentin Collins. Please, come in."

The house he led me into was something out of a museum, all antiques and
history and portraits of dead ancestors. Over the reek of his cologne, I
caught the scent of burning lamp oil, and realized there wasn’t a single
electrical light to be seen. It was like stepping into the past--and for
just a moment, it made me wonder again about how old I really was. Maybe
the time Barnabas Collins chose to live in was a part of my own forgotten
past.

And then I saw Tommy.

In the living room or sitting room or whatever it was, he was curled up in
a chair by the fireplace. There was another chair facing him where I
guessed Quentin had been sitting, because all the fixings for a card game
were set up on a table between them--along with, of all things, a tray of
milk and cookies. I couldn’t believe it, but my nose didn’t lie.

When he saw me, Tommy bounced out of his seat, smiling like a kid who’d
spent the day being baby-sat by a favorite uncle. "Hi, Logan!"

After everything he’d seen and done the night before, he was greeting me
like an old pal, and without even that ‘Professor’ moniker he loved to bug
me with. Either they found a shapeshifter to stand in for him, or somehow
they’d seriously messed with his head--and since the scent was definitely
Tommy, I knew it had to be the latter.

I lowered my eyebrows and gave Quentin Collins my best glare. "Okay. What’d
you do to him?"

"What do you mean? I didn’t do anything." He smiled at Tommy, then at me.
"When Barnabas asked me to stay with him until you came, I just sat here
and taught him to play whist."

Okay… whist. It would be fun explaining that one to Xavier. I frowned and
looked at Tommy. "So what did the *other* one do to you, kid?"

I knew I’d nailed it when he looked at me blankly and asked, "What other one?"

Before I could quiz him any more, Quentin cut in. "Look, Barnabas found
Tommy for you, safe and sound, just as he promised. Now I’m afraid I have
to repeat his request, and ask you to leave Collinsport." Then his tone
softened and he shook his head, with a small, apologetic smile. "I may not
particularly agree with my cousin’s views, but I do respect them. I’m sorry."

It was clear we’d worn out our welcome… again. I wasn’t satisfied, but
Tommy seemed healthy, and I could hardly complain about the agreeable mood
he was in. I picked up his jacket from an end table and tossed it to him.
"Come on, kid. We’re going back to the school."

He grabbed one last cookie and toddled after me like a puppy. Quentin
Collins saw us out, wished us a safe trip home, and shut the door behind
us--leaving me standing there on the steps and wondering what had *really*
happened in the last twelve hours.

I looked over at Tommy, who was shrugging into his jacket with his cookie
between his teeth, and a part of me couldn’t help but feel a devious little
hope that his attitude adjustment was permanent. I had a feeling it wasn’t,
though. It occurred to me that they might have drugged him, and I leaned
down slightly to sniff for any traces of chemicals.

Instead, under the chocolate chips and last night’s booze, I caught a faint
whiff of blood.

Tommy let out a little yelp as I clamped a hand on his shoulder and turned
him to face me. I looked him over from the scalp down, tilting up his chin,
pulling back the edges of his jacket…

And I found two small red marks on his throat.

Confused and oblivious, the kid blinked up at me. "What’s wrong?"

I wasn’t going to say what I was thinking. In fact, I wasn’t even going to
*think* what I was thinking about Barnabas Collins.

I shook my head, took Tommy by the wrist, and started to walk without
looking back.

"Let’s get out of here."


© 2004 Jordanna Morgan

Title: Colours
Universe: X-Men Movieverse
Author: Staramber
Author's Website: http://staramber.fcpages.com
Summary:  Classroom romance and half remembered physics. Kurt/Ororo
implied.
Feedback: Please
Archiving: As long as you let me know first.
Disclaimer: This all belongs to Fox and Marvel. I make no money from
it.

....

Rumours travel quickly through schools, especially when some of the
students can travel faster then light. The students, waiting for
their lesson to start, exchanged gossip and giggled about what had
happened over the weekend. They immediately went silent as Miss
Munroe entered.

After checking the attendance she flicked through the lesson plan.
She hated covering for the Professor but at least he had given her
an easy lesson. Luckily she remembered most of it from her own
schooldays, after helping Kurt `settle in' she didn't have much time
to prepare the night before.

"Okay... let's start then. What can you tell me about the," she
turned to write on the board, "electromagnetic spectrum?"

The students flipped through their notes.

"Urm... the fr...frequency of the wave affects where it is placed. I
think."

She paused for a second trying to remember if that was correct.

"Well yes but can you give me an example of a type of wave."

"A... Light?"

"That's right visible light. Now light is only one part of the
spectrum. The only part that we can see."

"Not me Miss"

"Well no but... this part here is the visible spectrum," she pointed
to a conveniently placed diagram on the wall, "and what is it made
up of?"

"Colour?"

"That's good, yes. Colours like violet and blue..."

"Like Mr Wagner?"

"Yes, and green and yellow."

"Like Mr Wagner's eyes?" said one girl.

"And what eyes," said another.

"All the better to see you with. Isn't that right Miss Munro?"

The class erupted into laughter and whispers of things like "In her
room?" and "The blue one?" could be heard.

"Okay. Settle down... Quiet! Yellow," another giggle, "orange and
red. Now these are all part of white light. How do we separate these
colours from white light?"

"Using a prism," replied a German voice from the back of the class
room, "may I see you outside for a moment?"

They left the class room accompanied by meaningful sniggers.

Ororo had no idea what was going on but she hoped that when the
Professor next went away he'd teach his lessons by mental link.

The End

Title: X-Book 2: Shadows and Steel - Chapter 23: Bullets and Glass

By: Kath713/Leen713

Rating: PG-13 (violence, language)

Genre: Crossover, SPOILERS FOR X2

Summary: See Chpt 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing in regards to the Marvel characters or
any character from a previously published source portrayed in this
story.

***

Chapter Twenty-Three:

Three black helicopters began to circle the house and Magneto smiled.

He glanced back, and saw the Sentinel destroying the home of two
mutants.

Far to his left, he noticed two X-Men loading their companions onto
their small black jet.

Four large transport vans stopped on the street and soldiers took
positions around the yard.

As his side were three of his own strongest soldiers, awaiting his
command to attack.


War…not the beginning.  That had been Alkalai Lake.
Simply…the next battle, each conflict…a step to victory.

Magneto focused on the transport vehicles and tilted his head
curiously.  They were also not made of metal.  How clever… it is
too bad for the soldiers that almost everything else around them was.

With barely a thought, he lifted one of the piled automobiles into
the air.  It hovered, gleaming beautiful silver in the dim light,
and he heard the soldiers shouting orders to each other.  Magneto
regarded them again curiously.  They seemed somewhat disorganized…
and very young.  They had not been meant as the main threat, simply
clean up after the machine.

And, who, he wondered, had been completing Stryker's work?  The
man was dead, after all.  Magneto had made sure of that, chaining
the human's body to a wall, left to drown under the waters of the
ruined dam.  Another ignorant fool, he supposed.  No matter…

The soldiers began to scatter as the hovering automobile flew
towards them.  The car impacted on van, which tumbled over and
cracked.  Three other cars followed, causing a minor panic among the
troops.  Magneto turned his attention to one of the helicopters
circling above.  With no small measure of enjoyment, he turned the
aircraft upside down and watched the humans within fall to the
ground.  He drew the machine to him, a more effective means of
escape than a land bound vehicle.

Magneto was so enthralled by his own actions, his own power; he did
not immediately hear Sid Malloy's shouting voice.

***

"Look out!" Sid yelled to Magneto and the others as the
Sentinel crashed forward through the front of the house.

Mystique looked back, up into the cold mechanical stare and watched
the machine lock its gaze on Magneto.  The four green searchlights
moved together as one and shone on him.  The green light made his
crimson helmet shine with a sickly light, but Magneto seemed
entirely focused on landing the helicopter.

"Erik!" Mystique yelled and sprinted toward him.  Magneto
shifted his eyes to the right but did not turn around.  Instead, he
lifted another car into the air and hurled it at the Sentinel.  The
machine swung one heavy arm and knocked it easily aside.

"Follow me…" he said, and gave Sid a long serious look.

Sid shook his head, "I can't!  I can't just leave them
with that thing…"

The younger man ran off and Magneto sighed with frustration.  The
twins were not members of the Brotherhood (yet) and his orders were
easily ignored.  The helicopter landed solidly and Magneto walked
quickly across the yard.  The others did not wait for an order to
follow him.

The machine also followed Magneto movements, and began to again walk
toward them.  Magneto glanced at Deathstrike, and she spun around
quickly and leapt toward the Sentinel, knowing his order without him
having to utter a single word.

She sunk her long claws into the lower hull and slashed into the
opening at its `knee' joint.  There were sparks from within
but the Sentinel did not stagger.  Deathstrike looked up and began
to climb higher.  Its chest cavity was still open, and she saw three
figures encased within.  She began to slash at the tentacles, when
one shot out and hit her in the neck with an injection.  She ripped
it away, and gripped the machine firmly to keep from falling.

From below, Sid began to form small balls of glass into sharp
spikes.  His face was red with rage, and he fired the broken pieces
at the machine.  The shards impacted the giant robot's head and
shattered without causing any obvious damage.  If Sid had been able
to look closer, he would have seen small cracks forming at the
impact sights, rounds breaks, like stones on glass.  He noticed a
figure climbing along the body of the machine and halted his attack.

Deathstrike waited a moment, and shook her head to clear it.
Sedatives, even strong ones, were pushed out of her system quickly,
another facet of her regenerative mutation.  However, the small scar
on the back of her neck began to ache, and the memories it triggered
of her involuntary servitude to Stryker hit her harder than the
drugs.

She shuddered and then ground her teeth angrily.  Glancing across
the darkness, she saw Magneto and the others boarding the conquered
helicopter.  She reached up and touched the ear worn communicator.

"Magneto," she called, "Respond."

"Deathstrike," his voice called back, "Where are you?"

"On the Sentinel," she said, "Would you like me to
destroy it?"

***

Magneto stood at the door to the helicopter and glanced upward
toward Deathstrike.  The machine was still taking slow steps towards
them and Magneto pondered on a question which needed an answer.

"No," he said, thoughtfully, and tapped his fingers against
the hull.  Pyro jumped slightly every time the massive foot caused
the ground to shake and Mystique was staring at Magneto with angry
confusion.

Magneto smiled again, "Why don't you stay with this new
toy…and we'll see where its playmates live…"

From the ground, Magneto could see Deathstrike grin menacingly.  If
this was constructed by followers of William Stryker, then they
needed to be dealt with quickly.  This battle would not end
tonight…

***

Sid Malloy ran toward the Sentinel and tried to climb up one leg, as
Deathstrike had.  However, as his hand touched the machine's
skin, it sunk into the strange material.  Sid pulled his hand back
in surprise.  He knew that sensation, a trick he had done a hundred
times before.  He ran up to the leg and tried it again.

The same result, his hand began to sink into the machine's hull.

Holy shit, he thought, The fucker's glass…

He stood solidly and focused his power on the Sentinel.  His head
began to ache with the effort and he swore again.

Shit...not entirely glass.

But, that did not matter. He could stop the machine that had
destroyed his home with his bare hands.

***

Cyclops helped Wolverine load Iceman into a passenger seat on the
jet next to Storm.  They were both out cold, but their vitals were
strong.

"Come on," Wolverine said, "Gumby and that kid are still
out there…"

Cyclops followed him with a nod, and they ran out of the jet.

Had they been present a moment longer, they would have heard
Rogue's voice call over the radio.

"Hello? Storm…Logan…anybody…come in…We're on
our way…"

***

The surrounding soldiers held their positions, even as they saw
several mutants escaping in one of their helicopters.  That had been
the order, monitor but do not interfere with the Sentinel.  However,
they had also been instructed to kill any mutant who threatens them.

Captain Dolan, recently promoted and barely twenty-five years old,
decided having cars hurled at you was pretty threatening.  He picked
up a communicator from one intact van and called to the lead team.

"Targets have proven hostile…repeat, targets have proven
hostile…initiating defensive response."

"Stow that shit, soldier," William Stryker's voice rang
viciously back, "If your men can't duck, they should learn
quickly.
I want Lensherr alive."

"Yes, sir," Dolan radioed back, "What about the other
mutants?"

"Has the prototype acquired any of them?" Stryker asked.

"Yes, sir," he replied, "Only two or three…"

"More than enough to satisfy," Stryker said, and Dolan frowned,
unsure of what the General meant, but forget any lingering questions
upon the next order, "Kill any of the others who get in the
way."

Dolan responded in the affirmative, and order his men into attack
positions.

***

Wolverine and Cyclops charged across the grass, and stopped as the
awaiting soldiers began to approach.  Cyclops reached for his visor
to fire but Wolverine grabbed his arm.

"Don't…" he said, "Once you start, they won't
stop until we're dead."

Cyclops looked at him doubtfully but Wolverine was glaring at the
approaching gunmen.

"Believe me…I was them..."

They continued to move across the yard and saw the machine
approaching the helicopter.  Magneto was standing at the door hatch,
glancing up at the Sentinel with a bizarre grin.  Wolverine followed
his gaze and spotted Deathstrike clinging to the hull.

Cyclops, however, was staring downward and saw a young man pacing
the machine and trying to touch it.  At one point, the large foot
nearly came down on his head, and Cyclops called out to him.

"Hey, get away from it!" he shouted and ran towards him.

Sid heard a voice shout but did not pay attention.  He leapt onto
the machine and pressed his hands into the lower leg.  The hull was
pliable under his touch and slow circular ripples formed around his
hand.  A gleeful blue light filled his eyes, a look that seemed
quite mad to the approaching X-Man.

***

Dolan approached with his troops and surveyed the mutants coolly.
Two were clinging to the Sentinel, two were standing in the grass,
and the others were aboard the helicopter.  None were paying
attention to the approaching troops, and Dolan grumbled with
frustration.

He hated mutants.  He had no specific reason, except that he had
always hated them.  So had his parents.  They told him mutants were
a disease, passing it on like a genetic plague through the
population.  He had heard it for so long; Stryker had been the only
man in the world who understood that as much as Dolan did.  Dirty
mutants…he just wanted one reason to open fire…

As he drew closer, he saw the mutant with his hands on the
Sentinel's hull, and the distortions he was causing.  No normal
human could do that.

Dolan raised his weapon and grinned.  Stryker said to fire if the
troops were threatened.  Fuck, the Sentinel was more human than
those freaks…no one will miss just one…

He aimed at Sid, and pulled the trigger.

***
Archived at www.fanfiction.net/~leen713

Title: X-Book 2: Shadows and Steel - Chapter 24: Shattered

By: Kath713/Leen713

Rating: PG-13 (violence, language)

Genre: Crossover, SPOILERS FOR X2

Summary: See Chpt 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing in regards to the Marvel characters or
any character from a previously published source portrayed in this
story.

***

Chapter Twenty-Four

Cyclops glanced around at the approaching force and called out to
Sid again.

"Jump down," he cried, "We have to get out of here!"

Sid turned and looked down at him.  His eyes were blazing with
fury.  Had Cyclops seen Rebecca in the house earlier before the
first explosion, he would have known she and this man were kin.

"I can't!" he shouted, "You don't understand!
They have my sist…"

Sid's words were cut off as a barrage of bullets littered his
chest.  He choked as blood bubbled into his throat and fell
backwards onto the ground.  Cyclops knelt next to him and Sid began
reaching towards the ruined cars… towards the broken glass…

Cyclops looked up at the troops in a sudden rage.  They kill…why
do they always kill?  Jean had died because of people like this;
hateful, pointless prejudice that only murdered and kept murdering.
Cyclops stood and reached for his visor, he turned the beam to its
highest setting and prepared to fire on the approaching men.

***

Wolverine walked toward the helicopter and Magneto smiled at him
viciously.

"Welcome back to the war, soldier," he said condescendingly
and Wolverine growled.

"You caused this," he spat, "Not them this time.  You.
Luckily, we got a little girl now who can tell us what Xavier
can't
pull from your mind."

Magneto stared at him with insulting pity, though noted his words
thoughtfully.

"Now, now, my boy," he chided, "I did not construct the
monster before you.  But…rest assured…I'll find out who
did.  And
then these toys will be a thing of the past…"

Wolverine leveled his claws at him, "You're not goin'
anywhere, bub."

Magneto sighed with boredom and held one hand toward the growling
man.

"Really, Wolverine," he said, "How do you plan to stop
us?"

Wolverine froze in place as Magneto took control of his adamantium
skeleton and, strangely, the X-Man did not struggle.

Magneto frowned curiously, and then spoke aloud.

"Mystique, prepare for departure."

There was no answer, and he frowned.  Looking back, he saw
Mystique's cold yellow eyes staring forward, at Logan.  She did
not move, even as he said her name again.

On the other side of the aircraft, Sabertooth also sat in perfect
stillness, the sneer frozen on his face.  All around Magneto, the
world fell silent, except for the whirring blades of the helicopter
and the steady steps of the Sentinel.

He lowered the hand pointed at Wolverine and stepped off the
aircraft.  Every living person around him had been stopped in their
tracks, and he heard a new sound approaching.

"Charles…" he said and gazed upward as another small craft
lowered from the sky.  In the front windows, he could see the pale
face of Rogue staring out at him angrily.  The expression was
similar to Logan's, a little of the Wolverine left over inside of
her.

There was a burst of air, and a soft sound.

            *Bamf*

In a cloud of blue smoke, Xavier and Nightcrawler appeared before
him.

The Sentinel took another step and Magneto smiled.

"Hello, old friend," Xavier said without good humor,
"This ends now."

The Sentinel took another step and Magneto shook his head.

"No, I don't think so," he replied, and pointed to the
sky, "Look up, Charles.  This is what they'll use next time
they
attack your school.  It has already gathered three, one of yours,
one of mine, and an innocent.  Remember Stryker's plans, his
ultimate work, and know he was not the only one with such goals."

Without another word, Magneto spun and leapt aboard the helicopter.
Nightcrawler glanced down toward the Professor.

"I could stop him, if you would like," he said softly and
Xavier shook his head.

"No," he said sadly, and then glanced at the bleeding man at
Cyclops's feet, "I'm afraid we have more dire needs at
the moment."

The helicopter lifted to the air, just as the Sentinel swiped on
large fist toward it.  It missed and gazed upward as Magneto flew
away.  Charles looked up at the machine with eerie calmness.  He had
no control over this device, and it began to march away slowly,
passing the still soldiers and ignoring the other mutants.  Its task
was complete…for now and it was heading back to its creator.

Xavier released the other X-Men from his hold and Wolverine stumbled
forward in confusion.  He straightened his shoulders as he noticed
the immobile troops and glanced back at the Professor with
annoyance.

"I hate when you do that," he said and marched to his
companions.

***

Cyclops stood over the wounded mutant and examined the bullet impact
sights gravely.  The pool of blood on the grass was spreading
rapidly and he doubted the man would live.

Sid tried to speak, reaching for the broken glass feebly.  He
mouthed the word but Cyclops did not understand.

Glass… he thought loudly, I need glass…GIVE ME GLASS!

I hear you, a voice rang in Sid's head, Don't be afraid.

"Scott," Xavier's voice called, "Bring him here."

"Professor, he's wounded, we can't move him," Cyclops
replied, but Xavier shook his head.

"Trust me."

Cyclops put his hands underneath Sid's shoulders and pulled him
closer to the ruined pile of automobiles.  To his surprise, tinkling
pieces of broken glass began to move toward the bleeding mutant.

Sid closed his eyes as the glass filled his wounds and felt the
microscopic particles forming with his own, making new skin…new
blood.

After few moments, Sid opened his eyes and looked up at the upside
down blue face of Nightcrawler, who was smiling happily.

"He is alive!" he exclaimed and Sid began to sit up slowly.
The molecules of the glass were still being changed into living
cells, but he did not have time to wait for his body to heal.

"My…I…" he coughed and Xavier looked at him sternly.

Speak in your mind, he sent and Sid nodded.

It took my sister, and two others, we have to stop it, Sid sent back.

Xavier looked toward the machine as it moved away, and frowned
deeply.  This new devilry was not created from Stryker's work
alone.  There was something else…

Mary had said they had to fear the General.  Could Stryker have
lived?  That's what Magneto was going to find out…

Suddenly, the machine began to fold in on itself and once again
became a hovering disk, and disappeared into the night sky.

"Ready the jet, Scott," Xavier said, "Kurt and I will go
with you and Logan.  Rogue can take the wounded back to the
mansion.  We will track the path of that device and find out where
it came from."

Sid struggled to his feet, "I'm coming with you then…"

Xavier turned to the mutant, "I think you should see our
doctor…"

He paused as Sid reached toward one cracked windshield; the glass
streaming into his body threw the holes in his suit.  After another
moment, he stood firmly and his hard blue eyes were filled with rage.

"I don't need a doctor," he said darkly, and Xavier
regarded him silently.

Sid smiled charmingly, a practiced skill but his eyes did not
change, "Either I go with you… or I go on my own.  We'll
race…it'll be fun…"

There was a tremble in Sid's voice, and Xavier heard a strange
ferocity there that did not seem to go along with his otherwise
debonair appearance.  Something of the fury he saw, something just a
little mad…

"Fine," the Professor said, "I'm Charles Xavier."

"I know…" Sid said arrogantly, "I'm
Sid…let's go…"

Storming past the others, Sid headed toward the small jet quickly.

Logan glanced at Xavier and laughed, "Ok, then."

The X-Men headed off in separate directions, one team returning to
the mansion, the others following Magneto, and the Sentinel.

***
Archived at www.fanfiction.net/~leen713

They're up.

=====
~~~~~~~~Miss November Tuesday~~~~~~~
fanfic ~ original erotica ~ true stories
~~~~~~~~~~www.novemberotica.com~~~~~~~~~~

~~~
title: "Dogs and Drums, and god in Hand."  [working title, at least].

author: Rodlox.

spoilers: various _Hercules: The Legendary Journeys_ & _Xena:
Warrior Princess_ & _The Invisible Man_ episodes, _THE SCORPION
KING_, _The Mummy_ & _The Mummy Returns_,  (I OWN NONE OF THE CANON
CHARACTERS).

(I might or might not also be including _The Prophecy_ movies)...

FEEDBACK: IS EAGERLY WELCOMED.

archive: just let me know where, okay?

~~~
Hyperion, freed from his stone captivity.  Hyperion and the other
Titans, let loose upon the Earth.  Where Titans moved, nothing
challenged them.

Not the great beasts which flew, nor the monsters of the seas  were
able to put a stop to the Titans.  The gods were ineffective.  No
hero could stand up to the Titans' power.

Hyperion, son of Titan, ruled the world.

Cassandra woke up.  Pulling a sheet of parchment from her nightstand,
she wrote down every bit of her vision that she could remember.

She could only think of one person who could do anything about this.
Only one person she trusted enough.

Hercules.

~~~
ALSO  IN  THE BRONZE  AGE:

Methen rolled over, the sunlight streaming through an uncurtained
window.  Groaning, "Why can't you ever rise at a reasonable hour,
Re?"  He stood up, righting the headrest that'd been knocked down
during the roll.

He'd been alive so long he couldn't really remember whether he had
been named after the Serpent who protected the Solar Boat of Re, or
if the Serpent had been named after him.  He was Methen.  He had
always been Methen.

Methen shucked off his sleeping clothes, little as he wore in this
exhausting climate; and donned his day clothes.  He'd have to get
changed again come noontime, for the big festival here in Luxor.  But
for now, breakfast.  Methen made a note to check his stash of barley
beer, and see if the priest-caretaker of Ammitt had any spare vessels
of grape beer.

One of his earliest friends in this city  was already seated in
Methen's dining room, snacking on a loaf of unleavened bread.  "It is
good and well to see that you have arisen in the wake of the Sun,"
said that friend.

Methen didn't raise an eyebrow.  His friend, a fellow priest - albeit
of a different divinity than Methen tended - tended to be verbose
when he wasn't on duty.

"The summons has come again, this time with a verification," he told
Methen.  The news the first time had been hard to believe, so it had
been sent back for verification; few people could do that, and not be
punished for doubting the Royal Will.

Methen's best friend had been selected to live in the Per'aa, the
Great House, the royal residence.  A goodly portion of Methen did
envy his friend such luck.

"May the Neteru, Gods, and Immortals smile upon you," Methen said to
his compadre.

"And to you as well," Imhotep replied.  He was excited: he wondered
what his life would be like, within the royal house.

~~~
IN  A  GRECOPHONE  AREA:

Xena yawned as she exited the tent she'd slept in.  Outside, she saw
the mercenaries gathering.  "Can I help you boys?" she asked.

"This is now our territory," said the mercenary who seemed to be in
charge of the other mercenaries.

"You fellas weren't here yesterday."

"We just got here.  But now, now you gotta pay us.  Pay for walking
on our turf."

"And if I can't pay?" Xena asked, bored enough to yawn.

"We're plenty creative," the head mercenary assured her.  "I'm sure
we can find plenty of somethings to do with you."

Ares appeared in all his glory.  "Run," he said in that quietly
threatening voice of his.  *NOBODY* threatened his warrior
princess...particularly like that!

The mercenaries wasted no time in turning tail and heading for the
hills.

"Well, there goes my morning workout," Xena said, turning her
attention back to Argos.

"And nice to see you too," Ares said in a friendly tone, turning
around to face Xena.  Or at least to face that nice back of
hers.  "Definately."

"I'm busy, Ares," she told him, tightening Argos' girth.
`Oh, I think you'll want to hear what I have to say."

Finished with her horse's waist, Xena glanced at Ares.  "I'll listen,
but it'll have to be while I gather firewood."

Tempted as he was to watch the warrior princess bend over time and
again, particularly in that leather outfit of hers, Ares decided
against it.  He snapped his fingers, and an enormous pile of logs and
sticks and twigs sat atop the charcoal which was all that remained of
last night's fire.

Xena didn't bother glaring at him.  She just ignored him.  "Ares, I'm
trying to cook breakfast, not the population of Troy."

"Why didn't I think of that?" Ares asked himself, making a mental
note that, next time that sort of a war came up again, to just roast
the city.  He snapped his fingers, and all but a few sticks vanished
without so much as a puff of smoke.  "Would you like some of my
fire?" Ares asked Xena.

"I can start by myself," Xena said, starting the fire that'd cook her
breakfast.  "What is it you want?" as Ares actually sat down across
from her.

"You remember Hercules, don't you, Xena?"

"Yes.  What about him?"

"Well, it seems that one of his friends told him about a prophetic
vision she'd had lately.  Hercules told Zeus, and..."

"And what?" Xena asked, turning to face Ares.  It wasn't like him to
trail off.  "What happened, Ares?  I'm guessing nobody turned you
into a mortal again."

"Good one, Xena; and you're right.  But this is almost worse."

"Worse?" Xena repeated.  Ares was pretty pathetic as a mortal, so for
him to rank something up with that...  "How worse?"

"Zeus went on the warpath, gathering up a bunch of the gods, and
headed for some place Hercules' friend said had the sort of warriors
they needed."

"Needed for what?  What's going on, Ares, that Zeus would go on a
warpath?"

"I don't know," Ares admitted.  "Zeus took Athena and Nike, but left
me behind."  He muttered something in Minoan.  "Looks like I don't
get to see what sort of warriors they have in Ahm Shere."

"Then why are you here?" she asked him.

"Just thought I'd stop by, let you know that Hercules isn't going to
be around any more."  And, while Xena was mentally tabulating just
how much overtime she was going to have to work, in order to counter
Ares' actions now...  "And thought to let you know, that that seat's
still open."

"And which seat is that?" Xena asked, though she already knew.

"The one by my side."

~~~
1939:

Once the evil Na'rmer had been vanquished, Rick O'Connel collapsed.
He would have fallen against the wall, had his wife and son not
caught him in time.  His friend had his eyes on Na'rmer's prisoner,
up on the dias.

Na'rmer had long ago made a pact with Uraeus, part of the eternal
spirit of KMT.  And like with the Scorpion King himself, Na'rmer's
pact had transformed him.  The cobra-Na'armer's slave birds flew off,
releasing their prisoner.  At first, she didn't move.

Imhotep looked at Rick and Ardeth.  "Thanks for all your help," Rick
said.

"Yes," Ardeth said, "you were a great assistance."

Imhotep thanked them.  And then he just stood there.  "What's he
waiting for?" Rick asked.

"I think he's under the impression that we're going to send him
back," Evie said, smiling a little in Imhotep's direction.

"Oh," Rick said.  To Imhotep, "We're not going to send you anywhere.
You can go."  Ardeth looked at Rick, a note of alarm on his face, but
he said nothing.  Had it not been for Imhotep, they likely would not
have freed Na'rmer's prisoner.  "You're free."

Only after Imhotep had left, did she run straight for the arms of
Ardeth Bey.  Her father, the only person here she knew -- the others,
she had only heard of.

Running his hands through her hair in a paternal manner, Bey told his
friends, "I thank you once more, my friends.  Without your help -"

"It's no problem," Rick said.  "You helped us save Alex when he was
kidnapped.  This was the least we could do," though he still didn't
like snakes.

"Besides," Evie said, "we've been meaning to take a vacation for a
while now anyway."

"Thank you, maam," Aisha said to Evie, then "Thank you, sir," to
Rick.  Then she found herself with Alex.  The two of them stood
there, feeling a little awkward.  Finally, Aisha made the first move,
taking one final half-step towards Alex O'Connel.

They kissed each other on the cheeks, then looked into each other's
eyes.  "I owe you my life, you know," Aisha Bey said.

Alex ducked his head to hide the blush.  "It was nothing, really."

~~~
YEARS  LATER:

Alex O'Connel was trying to read his mother's latest publication --
an analysis of the warnings which had been found in King Tutancamun's
tomb.  He figured the subject matter was why his stomach felt a
little off...or it was sympathy pains.

Alex let one finger loll one way and then another, in the sand tray.
Literally a tray full of sand, it was a theraputic object, and also a
good way to leave notes.

It was then that his wife entered, pausing soon after she'd entered
the room.  "Our little khedive just gave another kick," Aisha said.

Standing up, Alex walked over to her, and gingerly-tenderly put one
hand on his wife's swollen abdomen, and felt another kick from the
womb.  "Probably gets it from your side of the family?"

"My family is soley guardians and watcher, my Horus," she teased him.

Alex got the joke, as it was an old one between them: his father bore
the tattoo of Osiris; as the son...  "But they fight really -" and
stopped, interupted by the sound of a wind.

A wind *inside* their house.  Their doorways and windows were
protected by amulets against the Evil Eye, which considerably lowered
the number of disturbances.  But this dark wind had blown into the
house, passing right by the amulets.

Either it was a good wind, or it was powerful enough to overwhelm the
amulets.

The wind said nothing.  It only blew around the room, and then left
the way it'd come inside.

"Alex," Aisha said, looking at the sand.  It was now shaped into
hieroglyphs.  Hieroglyphs that read: `Return Imhotep.  There will be
a Trial.'

"It's okay," Alex told her, his hands on her upper arms reassuringly.

~~~
NEARLY  THE  PRESENT:

Marie followed her momma down the rows of crates that'd just
arrived.  Her momma worked for the state museum, and that meant Marie
got to see the neat things before anyone else did.

One of the crates was open, and Marie looked in it.  It was mostly
packing stuffers...but there, there was a thing.  A little statue, an
artifact.  Marie picked it up, looking at it.

It looked like a silly kitty, Marie thought to herself, turning it
over in her hands.  Funny face.  Marie smiled, thinking up a name for
this little statue.  There was Mr Piddly in the Sumerian Room, and Ms
Birdy in the Early Japan Room...

A jolt of energy rebounded through Marie; though she didn't drop the
artifact, `cause then momma woulda been mad at Marie.

Marie just put the thing back, and walked away, looking for momma.
She didn't notice the artifact crumbling into desert sands.

~~~

BRONZE  AGE:

Methen wandered, disconsolable(sp).  Imhotep had been ham'die-ed, not
even a decent death.  All of Methen's attempts to behead his old
friend, to end the suffering, had failed.  He could not get past the
Med'jai.

"There has to be a way," Methen said to himself, not for the first
time.  It wasn't even the hundredth time that he'd said that.  He had
lost count of how often he'd said that, of how many days, months, and
years had passed.  Methen no longer resided in Luxor, having given up
that home for wandering through the lands of Setukh, the Red Lands:
the lands of foreigners.

He'd passed by a land where the lord and ruler was contemplating the
construction of a massive pyramidal tower to the heavens.  Methen
would have wished them luck, or even helped them out...but his heart
wasn't in it.  "I'll help them after I save Imhotep," he told himself.

Land and sand, land and sand and sea.  He'd walked through armies,
wars, and graves.  Still no way in sight to help Imhotep, so Methen
kept looking.  He hadn't ever had many friends, so he did whatever he
could to help the few he'd had.

Methen tripped and fell, tumbling over and over and over, all the way
down a hill.  When he reached the bottom and hadn't been rendered
briefly-dead or unconcious, Methen felt his head both ache and ring
with that certain buzz.

There was a sword to his throat.  "I am Kronos," Methen was told.
This was the god of the Greek traders?  Rather piddly, Methen thought
to himself.  "Identify yourself," Kronos demanded.

Perhaps I can use him.  Rather than use his own name, Methen figured
he may as well give a Grecian spin on his name and namesake.

"I am Methos."

~~~
1950s:

Alex O'Connel dreamed not a pleasing dream...

He wasn't in it.  His wife was.  And she was not alone in it.

She was kissing a giant falcon.  One of the Horus, Alex knew
somehow.  Aisha gave it a peck, a light kiss atop its beak.  Then...

Then it kissed back.

Falcons were like any other bird of prey: utterly lacking in lips.
Yet somehow it was succeeding in kissing her without drawing blood.
And she was enjoying it, his wife.

"My Horus," the Aisha in his dream said.

Alex woke up before the dream could become any more scandalous.  He
dared not tell Aisha about his dream.  Yet...

They'd shared everything: dreams, hopes, hardships, joys...  Alex
knew that she would be able to tell that he was hiding something from
her.  But he couldn't --  He wouldn't bring himself to speak of that
dream.  The Ancient Egyptians believed that if you said something, it
would come true, Alex knew; and the same for writing a thing down.

Alex shifted uncomfortably in bed.  Beside him, Aisha murmured,
enjoying whatever dream she was having.

~~~
BRONZE  AGE,  KMT:

The sun rose with a bloody air, where the sky was neither black nor
blue, but a shiny red like that delicious fluid.  A few Salukis(sp?)
yapped at the coming of morning, their canine breed already centuries
old, and would survive for millenia.

Malakbel didn't yawn.  The Hebrews mistakenly spoke of him as `the
Angel of Baal',  which was largely erroneous.

He didn't need to yawn, however much it might've helped him to blend
in with the throngs of people surrounding  him.  As the Sun God of
neighboring Syria, he had come here to look in on things, to see how
the regime change in this land was progressing.  Not well, at least
in the eyes of those like Amenhotep the Fourth, who kept trying to
suppress worship and devotions aimed at the prior Neteru of this land.

And Malakbel, in offering the aid of himself and his realm  to the
suppressed Neteru, had made himself a divine enemy.  For the patron
and lord of Amenhotep the Fourth was Aten...And Aten had declared war
on Malakbel, and Malakbel wasn't about to admit defeat to some cultic
fad.

No, he adopted a grim facade, a determined face.  This was yet
another war that he would win.  He needed only to come upon the right
means.

~~~
MUCH  MUCH  EARLIER  WITHIN  THE  BRONZE  AGE:

Nammitti was the highest priest of the most prominent temple
dedicated to the Neteru Ammitt.  He was also the caretaker of that
divinity.  As caretaker, it was his duty and sacred task to lay out
the daily food before the statue of Ammitt, to change the divinity's
clothes, removing the prior day's food and clothes with the utmost
reverence.

Most days, the tasks went by without a hitch.  But this was not most
days.  Already, Nammitti's best friend and confidant  -- Methen --
had abandoned the country  only a week before now.  And the fates
were not complete with Nammitti.

A wind was exhaled from the crocodilian mouth of Ammitt.  That divine
wind created sands where previously there had been none; the entire
temple was kept immaculate, particularly this far in.

Those sands formed a sentance; short, effective, immediate.  And
commanding.

`Bring your son to Me' it read.

Nammitt did not even consider disobeying.  He was a pious man who
loved whom he worshipped, and was also a good family man, a pillar of
the community.  But he knew that his prosperity thus far in life  had
been thanks to Ammitt.  His lord giveth, and now his lord taketh away
but a portion of that prosperity.

So he did as he had been commanded.  He left the temple and fetched
his only son, Seti, bringing the youth before the statue of Ammitt.
When he'd returned, the sand was gone  -- another miracle, he
considered it.

Another wind that created sand, likewise from the maw of the Eater of
Souls' statue.  This time, the phrase between it and the two humans
was `Touch My likeness, boy.  Your soul will be saved, ka and ba
alike.'

Seti stepped forwards with a good deal of trepidation, this being the
first time that he had ever gone this far into a temple; like much of
the population, Seti had only been allowed as far as the hyppostyle
hall.  As he drew nearer to the statue, Seti found himself unsure of
which part to touch: was this a test?  And if so, was he supposed to
touch the crocodilian jaws, the wildcat forequarters, or the hippo
hindquarters?

Seti closed his eyes, and touched.

...And vanished in a swirl of desert sand.

`He will serve Me in the Hall of Judgement,' Ammitt's sand-carved
words pronounced, `and wherever else I deem.'

After that, the sand faded into nonexistance, and the chamber room
was filled only with silence.

Nammitt's second son would be named Abraham, who would meet Xena and
Gabrielle.

~~~
BRONZE  AGE,  WITHIN & BENEATH & OF  AHM SHERE:

Hercules had found himself standing atop a plynth.  A plynth which
looked out over  -- nothing, literally nothingness.  "Cassandra!" he
called out.  Why did I let her come with us? he asked himself, and
answered right away with Because she talked me into it.  Her dream,
her responsibility.  She wanted to see it through, whatever it was.

"Your friend is safe enough," said a voice he didn't recognize.
Looking up from the nothingness, Hercules looked into the firey-red
eyes of a shadow-thing that looked like a jackal.  A jackal that
stood like a man.

"Who are you?"

"I am Anubis," said the shadow.  "What is the name of you?"

"Hercules.  Where am I?"

"You are in a plot of land which is soley my own.  Therefore, I am
not obligated to return you to the Death Court of your land.  You are
here to stay."

"You sure I can't talk you out of it?" Hercules asked.  He was
abruptly struck with the notion that Salmoneus could probably talk
this god-whatever into anything.

"I want for nothing," Anubis said, though in a discontented tone.  He
then dissapated into wisps of shadow and smoke.

Hercules was alone.  He sat down on his plynth.  "I'm guessing this
could be a while," he said, trying to think of how to escape from a
place that was  -- or at least seemed to be --  nothingness, save for
himself and the plynth.

~~~
THE  PRESENT  DAYS:

Rogue was playing with her food.  Seated by herself yet again, she
used a fork to roll the peas from one end of her plate to the other
end.  Nobody wanted to be around her; a state which had already begun
to form  even before Eric had kidnapped her.

Nobody really talked to her, aside from trying to get answers for
quizes and tests given in class.  Rogue didn't fall for such tricks
anymore.

The exams were all too easy.  Every class she'd tried  was too
easy...except for Gym.  Marie never liked Gym class, much prefering
to secrete herself in some dimly-lit room all by herself, nice and
quiet.  Dr. Grey and the others, they all tried to get Rogue to play
with the other kids, saying that Rogue shouldn't become a hermit.

There were times that she wished she had someone who understood her,
someone who didn't want to use her, someone who wouldn't patronize
her.  The three things weren't too much to ask for, she'd always
figured.  After all, it wasn't like she was hoping for someone to be
able to safely touch her.

~~~
BRONZE  AGE,  GRECOPHONE  AREA:

Methos sat down at Kronos' royal table.  Though the other man was
treated as a god, Kronos himself harbored no illusions about being a
Titan.  It was just a similarity of names.  "You have convinced me to
let you live," Kronos said while servants poured fermented grape
juice for each of them.  "Now tell me your tale."

"I am  --  I am seeking men of noble wills and great fortitude,"
Methos-Methen said.  "For a task which will right a great and immoral
wrong."

"One committed by man, god, or something else?"

"By men."

"Are you certain?" Kronos asked.

"As certain as any Immortal can be," Methos replied with great
certainty in his voice.  "But what does it matter, in the end?"

"Then I will tell you a tale," Kronos said.  "Once, there was, of the
olden race of Cyclops," Kronos said, "one known by the name of
Polyphêmos.  One day, this sheep-herder was host to a shipload of men
who were led by a trickster named Odysseus  -- though when Polyphêmos
asked for his name, this trickster replied "I am No-man"," Kronos
said, using the Greek words "oud-eis," which was a pun on the name
Odysseus.  "After the trickster and his misguided slaves had brought
Polyphêmos to sink into a drunken stupor, then Odysseus and his men
heated the end of the sharpened stake in the cave's fire until it
glowed red hot, then thrust it into the giant's single eye."

"Is there a point to this story?" Methos, who enjoyed a good story as
much as any man, though he didn't see what this had to do with
anything.

"Indeed there is," Kronos nodded.  "For the noble Polyphêmos' cries
of pain and anguish attracted the attention of the other Cyclopes
living on the island, and they came to his cave inquiring what all
the noise was about.  Polyphêmos answered did answer them then, "I
have been blinded by No-man." His friends, responded that, if no man
did it, it must have been the gods who did it, so Polyphêmos would
simply have to bear his suffering.  They returned to their own caves,
unaware that the trickster human was preparing to make his escape.

"The other Cyclopes had a point, Methos," Kronos said, "that if the
gods are the cause of what you seek to correct, then you are doomed,
and should simply bear the consiquences."

"You are missing the point of the matter," Methos said.

"Am I?" Kronos asked.  "Then what is the point?"

"You are Immortal," Methos told him.

"Yes, I am aware of that," Kronos replied.  "What of it?"

"Imagine how much good you could do with an army at your beck and
call, to sweep down upon the enemies of your people."

"An age of enlightenment for all," Kronos said, half to himself.
Methos nodded, willing to let Kronos believe this.  If it freed
Imhotep, it was worth it...irregardless of the price, of the
outcome.  "Yes, so be it.  I shall aid you in this endevour.  Let us
stride forth upon the earth."

And so began the Four Horsemen.

~~~
PRESENT  DAYS:

Methos yawned, and stood statue-still as the cooks took their time
about taking his pizza out of the oven.  If he were a few thousand
years younger, he likely would have resorted to tapping his foot
against the wooden floor.  Then he saw who was seated at a nearby
table, and all thoughts of pizza fled his mind.

Having recently been seated, Logan waited for the waitress to return,
and listened to the song oozing from the ceiling:

	 "And I reach for you..."

Can I help you?" another the waitress asked; she knew the one who'd
seated him, and she didn't like how that one always made customers
wait half an hour before taking their order.  Unfortunately for her
efforts, Logan's attention was on the music.

	 "Tears from the moon,

		 "Can't wash away the pain.

	 "Tears from the moon,

		 "Tears from the moon."

"Yo, I said, can I help you?" she repeated.

"Yeah.  Two burgers, no onions," Logan said.

"This is `Pizza Hut', sir.  `Burger King' is around the corner."

"Oh," Logan said, mentally kicking himself.  Yet again you pull into
the wrong parking lot of life, bucko.  Be thankful Wheels and ol' One-
Eye aren't around to see this.  "Meat Lovers Special, then," he
requested of her.

"Sure, gotcha," the waitress muttered, jotting it down, and leaving
the table.

"It's been a while," Methos said, leaving his table for a chair at
Logan's.

"Who're you, bub?" Wolverine asked.

"You don't recognize me?" Methos asked, hurt to some degree, but
keeping in mind how long it'd been.  With the exception of Kronos, he
hadn't seen any of his friends in long centuries.

Wolverine's mind clicked.  It was Mystique, taunting him.  After all,
what better place to taunt than in public?  "Don't you have somewhere
to be?"

"Not particularly."

"No?  No lunatic to pull out of danger?"

"Nope," Methos said, having pretty much given up on that infernal Boy
Scout MacLeod.  He much prefered `MacLeod's Daughters' on
the `Hallmark' Channel.  "You?"

"They can do without me," Wolverine said, not sure why Mystique was
asking about Wheels and the bunch.

"Just wondering," Methos replied; then, just to be sure, "You do
recognize me, don't you?"

"E-yep," Wolverine replied.  That disguise didn't fool him one
bit...even if she did smell different.

A nod.  "Good."

~~~
ENGLAND,  702 AD:

Imogen, the current wife of Methos, ran one hand languidly along her
husband's back as they lay together.  Methos rolled onto his stomach,
only half asleep.

"What -- what be this?" Imogen gasped, warily fingering the bizarre
tattoo upon Methos' back.

Methos knew what she spoke of, as every one of his wives had asked
that very question during their lifetimes.  But he played innocent as
best he could, as only he could.  "What is what, my dearest?" he
asked her, lifting his head a little from the pillow.

"It appears of Celtic make, my husband," Imogen said.  Knots and
weaving, interflowing around and forth.  The design was artful,
though it made no sense.

"So I've been told," Methos said, yawning.  But it was older than
that, he knew.  As far back as I can remember, I've had that thing.
Nobody knows what it means.  Likely there's nobody left who can
decipher it...I'm older than the pyramids, older than the standing
stones of Stonehenge, and even the Minoans felt the wrath I expunged
when they claimed ignorance of my marks.

But he said none of that to Imogen.  She was young, a mere twenty-two
years of age; a late wedder in her society, but always the youth to
Methos.

"Perhaps we can find someone who can decipher it," Methos said to
her.  Imhotep and the marks, the two unsolved things in his life.
There may be more, though I cannot recall them.  It was a thing which
haunted him.  "Later."

...And rolled Imogen upon her back.  She giggled for a time, then she
gasped in pleasure...

~~~
1920s:

While Ardeth Bey watched the lone surviving soldier make his running
way across the open desert, a thought crossed Bey's mind...Could that
man put a stop to the terror which he nearly awoke?  Or to Raguel,
freed by that Dr. Carter so recently?

Raguel, the `avenger of God against the world of light' according to
some ancient texts  --  and according to non-Med'jai oral tales.

Over the millenia of their existance, the Med'jai had found
themselves confronted with the wards and watch-sites of other
peoples.  Cooperation and brotherhood had taken root between the
secret societies which deemed each other as equals.  Such as the
Med'jai and their Hebrew co-equals, even if they did not recognize
the legitimacy of each others' gods, they still recognized the
legitimacy of their duties.

Ardeth doubted if any one man could put an end to the actions of
Raguel, even that wandering soldier.

~~~~~~~~
BRONZE  AGE,  WITHIN & BENEATH & OF  AHM SHERE:

The shadowy Neteru appeared without warning, abruptly existing and
*being* in this nothingness.  "I have a proposition," Anubis
said.  "For you."

Hercules woke up with a stiff feeling in his lower back.  He mentally
resolved not to doze off in a sitting position, next time.  "I'm
listening," he said, still on the plynth.

"Through actions you take, you may earn your freedom," Anubis told
him.

"What're you asking me to do?" Hercules asked.  If the actions
involved hurting people, then he was just going to stay here,
surrounded by nothingness.

"Capture an outrage."

"A --  a what?"

"Capture a servant, something rogue and loose."

"Can you give me a description of this servant I'm looking for?"

"Rogue.  Raguel."

In an instant, Hercules found himself sitting atop the hill which
looked down on Thebes.  The hill from which the Scorpion King had
launched the final attack with his canid armies.

~~~
LATE  BRONZE  AGE,  A  TEMPLE  WITHIN  THE  CITY  OF  TYRE:

Baal stood next to his consort, Tanit, as they listened to the awful
sounds coming from a wounded Kybele.  The injured goddess was
incoherent, making sounds that were almost classifiable as singing.

	 "Hey waitress, couldya cancel that order?

		 "But if its too late I'll take it to go.

	 "Boys, I've gotta run

		 "B'fore somebody calls 9-1-1.

		 "`Cause I left somethin' turned on at home."

Even Matar, a goddess from the land north of here, had admitted that
she was baffled by the wounds.  This did not bode well for the gods,
all of them knew.

Even Tengu had reportedly been injured in fighting with an assailant
whom none could describe.  Baal was hoping that that last one was
only a rumor.  There had to be someplace safe from this new,
impending threat.

If there wasn't...

	 "It ain't the stove,

		 "It ain't the heater.

	 "She's hotter

		 "An' a whole lot sweeter.

	 "And all day long,

		 "She's been there alone.

	 "Right now her arms're open,

		 "The house is prob'bly smokin',

			 "`Cause I left somethin' turned on at home."

Shivering, Baal fled to get help, vanishing in a puff of stormcloud-
coloured smoke.  Tanit looked at that spot where her consort had
been, then back to Kybele.  "Hurry, husband," she whispered.

~~~
LATE  BRONZE  AGE,  GRECOPHONE  AREA:

Xena and Gabrielle were in a bar.  Gabby was drinking clean water,
and Xena was having something stronger...and knocking out some muscle-
bound idiot who was trying to hit on her.

"Xena?" Gabrielle asked.

"What?"

"It's been a while since we've travelled anywhere, hasn't it?"

"Oh no," Xena growled.

"I mean, we haven't seen the far west yet, or anything past the
mountains of Punt and Kush, or --"

"Gabrielle?" Xena asked.

"Yeah?"

"Drink your water."

Just then, Hades appeared in the middle of the bar.  Over ninety
percent of everyone in the room fled out of his way, cowering in
corners.  Hades ignored them; instead, he walked up to where Xena was
sitting.  "Hello there, Xena," he said.

"Hades," Xena replied, taking a swallow of her drink.

"I need your help."

"I'm busy."

"You're getting drunk."

"See, I am busy."  Hades considered casting a spell so that Xena
would never be able to get drunk.  Then he voiced that option.  Xena
grumbled something in Doric, then swivelled on her chair to look at
the god.  "This'd better be good."

"I wouldn't need your help if it were good," Hades said
literally.  "There's something you need to -" Hades said, almost
saying `to see'.  "To hear.  Don't worry, I'll bring you back in time
to finish your drink."  Before Xena could open her mouth or protest,
Hades had whisked them both away to the mouth of a cave.

Xena recognized this cave.  "What could be so bad that you bring me
to the Fates' cave?" Xena wanted to know.

Hades' face was grimmer than usual, which was a real feat.  "All
across the Agean and Hellspont and beyond, Xena, the Oracles and
future-seeing Gods have been spouting things like this," and motioned
to the Fates.  Past and Present had their fingers plugged in their
ears, and weren't tending the Loom.

Future was singing:

	 "Oh there were green alligators

		 "And long-necked geese,

	 "Humpty-backed camels

		 "And chimpanzees,

	 "There's rats and cats and elephants,

		 "And sure as you're born;

			 "But there just ain't no more unicorns."

Xena ran out of the cave.  She'd heard horrifying things in her
lifetime, but nothing as agonizing as that.  Following slowly after
her, Hades nodded.  "And that's appearantly one of the more moderate
things being sung.

"Is there any way to stop it?"

Hades didn't exactly shrug.  "Not with the way things are going.  But
there have been a few clues scattered about by those who see the
futures...  You may not like this, Xena, not after what you've been
through with people from there."

But she didn't need any more convincing, not after listening to
Future sing.  "What do I have to do?" she asked.

"Help Rome."

~~~
BRONZE  AGE,  WITHIN  THE  NILE:

Sobek rested in the nurturing waters of the Nile.  He himself was not
threatened by that upstart Aten.  Irregardless of what Aten claimed,
Aten could never attack or war on Sobek.  After all, Sobek was the
Nile, the One who tended the great River.  Without the Nile, Aten was
nothing, just like every other claimant for the Throne of Heaven.

Those who reigned in and over water could be complacent in their
realms, secure in their position.  After all, the humans were like
any other worshippers: dependant upon liquid water.  Take the water
away, and the humans went away as well.  The perfect blackmail
material: a portable threat:

`Keep me happy...or else.'

~~~
PRESENT  DAYS:

Methos sat next to the grave of Alexa.  The soil was still freshly-
turned, buried only a day ago.

A bunch of kids, with motives Methos didn't even consider, had parked
their car on the nearest drivepath, and had poured out of the car,
leaving the windows down and doors open -- and its motor running.

Methos didn't even consider yelling at those kids to turn off their
car.  In part it was because he didn't feel up to doing anything at
all.  In part, because they were mortals, ephemeral by their inherent
nature.

And in part because he recognized the mood behind the song which
poured out of the car...

	 "Some say you're bitter,

		 "A bad bad seed,

		 "Ya love to play with fire,"

The former Horsemen that he was, Methos understood the accusation.
When he'd admitted to Alexa that he was Immortal, it was only after
she'd told him how she hoped something of her endured...for a long
time.  He'd even confessed to having been a member of the Four
Horsemen, fully expecting her wrath, fear, or disgust...but no, she'd
flattered him, saying that she understands, that he is a good man,
saying that the Horsemen had a divinely-appointed role to play.

Her use of the present/future tense had chilled Methos to the cores
of his aged bones.

	 "But I think you're cute and I love your smile,

		 "Wanna be with you,

			 "Want you to stay a while.

	 "Won't talk ya down,

		 "Call ya names;

			 "My mind's made up,

				 "It ain't gonna change;

	 "Sure in my heart,

		 "Happy and free,

			 "You're the one, you're the one,

				 "You're the one for me."

Methos sighed.  "Thanks for believing in me, Alexa."

~~~
NAPOLEONIC  EGYPT:

Kronos walked up to the Commander's tent, wanting to talk to the
mortal about strategy.  As brilliant as Napoleon could be, Kronos
knew that there were some things that the short Sicilian was blind
to.  And Kronos did not want to imagine Napoleon as an Immortal  --
some things just were better mortal.

As he was about to announce himself to the Leftenant standing guard
in front of the tent, Kronos saw a woman leaving Bonaparte's tent.
She looked half local and bits of French, Ionian Greek, and Cordoban
Spanish.

"Who was that?" Kronos asked, once the woman was out of earshot.

"Oh, you know Bonaparte," the Leftenant said.  "Always going on about
how he's a leader for the modern age, an aspiring artist, a genius,
le blah, le blah, le blah."

The answer was now obvious to Kronos.  "So, she is a very model for
our modern major general?"  The Leftenant nodded.  Kronos went into
the tent by himself, making the proper addresses and gestures for
this day and age.

"Who was that?" Kronos asked after the piddling things had been done.

"A woman of extra-ordinary intellect," Napoleon said.  "And most
convincing."

To Kronos' mind, this meant one of two women:  Cassandra or Gabrielle.

"And she's convinced me," Napoleon said.

"Convinced you to what?" Kronos asked.  How would that tart's schemes
affect his own plans?

"To send my army into the heart of Egypt!  To capture legendary
figures who would fight by our sides."

There was fervor in Napoleon's voice, Kronos knew, and
passion.  "What figures would those be?" Kronos asked, half expecting
the answer to be `the Four Horsemen.'  Or `Lady Godiva.'

"Among others, Imhotep and the King Scorpion!"

It took a while, but Bonaparte was eventually convinced to only send
a portion of his army into the desert.  One of the reincarnations of
Anak'sun'amun had tried again, and would give it another go in
another century and a half.

~~~
LATE  BRONZE  AGE,  CARTHAGE:

The woman prisoner was brought before Hannibal Barca himself.
Gabrielle was forced forwards onto her knees by the soldiers who'd
brought her into this temple.

"Do you know where you are?" asked Hannibal, his back to Gabrielle,
facing the altar of Baal.

"Some temple," Gabrielle replied.

"The temple of Baal-Hammon, bringer of storms and wisdom."  Hannibal
turned around, looking down at her.  "Who is this?" Hannibal asked.
To Gabrielle, "Identify yourself."

"Who am I?" Gabrielle asked, standing up.  "I am Gabrielle.  Amazon
Princess," among other titles.  "Daughter of Nikos and Sophia.  I am
right hand of vengeance and the boot that is going to kick your sorry
ass all the way back to Greece.  I death incarnate and the last
living thing that you are every going to see.  God sent me."

"Which one?" Hannibal asked.  His own full name meant `Grace of Baal
Lightning.'

"It was a figure of speech."

"She Hath Spirit," intoned a divine voice in and over the
altar.  "Bring Her Forth!

Hannibal, who'd been looking forwards to a bit of fun, did as he had
been commanded by his god.  When Gabrielle was at the altar, Baal
appeared by her side, looking at her.

For a brainy god of rain, Gabrielle thought to herself, he certainly
doesn't look effeminate.  Further thought was forstalled by him
bringing up his hands, and casting something down, down into her.  He
had aquired it over a thousand years ago, a gift in the trade between
two theophanies.

And now, now he had it in a safe place.

~~~
QUEBEC, 1965 AD:

The Quebec Museum was empty at this time of night, with the lone
security guards easy to evade.

Even with his powers reduced after fighting the Scorpion King,
Imhotep found he still had enough magic in him  to slip past the
security sensors.  Now he stood in the Medieval World exhibit's
Damascus Room, all set to open tomorrow.  In his hands...

Imhotep cradled the museum piece in his hands.  My precious,
precious, oh so precious.  Mine.  My precious.

The artifact was made of a rare marbled stone, rather than the clay
of his own formative years, or the metal of the medieval eras.

Imhotep recognized it.  Or rather, what it held.

This Lamp was no ordinary vessel.  `Aladdin'... tasting the name in
his mind.  That was who one rumored owner of this lamp was said to
have been.  What might you have done with me?

Imhotep rubbed the lamp and whispered an invocation, a summoning
spell...

And from the lamp arose a whisp of great power.  The long-cursed
being that was Imhotep recognized it: this was his ba, stolen from
him, torn from him by those Med'jai in the early stages of the
Humm'dai.

Escaping from this lamp  was the concious, the ethics of Imhotep the
Man.

"Whom summons I?" the ba demanded, having taken the outwards
appearance of a jinn.  Shadow-shaped eyes gave the appearance of
widening.  "I have been summoned by I?"

"Indeed," Imhotep said.

"For what reason / purpose?" his ba wanted to know, having been made
suspicious by ages of humans making self-serving wishes.

"Communion.  To be re-united with all parts of myself-ourself,"
Imhotep said.  After I am reunited with my ba, then there remains
only my ka to locate.

The ba was intrigued by the proposal.  "Long have I sought the other
portions of I, to the avail of none of I.  I accept the offer I put
forth!" and there was a clap of thunder  as Imhotep and his ba merged.

Imhotep was rendered unconcious, the ba only barely in control.

Logan was the one who woke up.

{baal inserted the KA of imhotep into gabrielle}.

~~~~
THE  ONCE-SITE  OF  HAUMANAPTERA:

Imhotep listened to the song carried by the new wind...

	 "And this is what you say to me:

	 "Be careful what you wish for  --

		 "This is your life,

			 "Welcome to your life."

He wished the very best of an afterlife and Eternity for all of his
friends...Methos, the O'Connels, the Grey-Summers, Gabrielle and
Kronos, and everyone else who'd befriended him over the millenias.

	 "You pray for days (no matter) what you wish for,

		 "This is your life,

			 "Welcome to your life."
~~~~
the End!

----
title: Kurt's albatross.

author: Rodlox.

category: crossover  (X-Men & The Mummy -- both I and II of
both films).

reply to the Opening Line Challenge from - Khaki, I think.

disclaimer: Not mine; except for any original fictional
characters.

summary: like the Ancient Mariner, Kurt Wagner has an
albatross of his own: his past.  and not just any past at that.

takes place about a month after X2.

POV: Kurt Wagner's.

note: the items in Italics  are the parts which are not First
Person POV.

----
PRESENT DAY -

"You ever killed anything?" I am asked.

I do not need to look up from where I kneel  to know that it was
Wolverine asking me that question.  I finish my prayer before I
reply: "Yes."  Many things."

"What," he asks me.  "A rabbit?  A fish?"

I stand and perform the proscribed rituals demanded of me by my
faith.  Only when I complete those, as he is looking like he assumes
his correctness in this matter, that I reply, "I have killed men
before."

"When?  When you raided the Pentagon under Stryker's control?  That
doesn't count."  Is he trying to provoke me?  Hoping that I will be
angry enough to challenge him to a fight?  That I will lose control
over reason and go along with his ideas `for the hell' as humans
nowadays say?

I do not meet his eyes.  "Before then.  Years before, I killed men
and mutants alike."  And those who were said to be angels and gods.
And small children, before they could become any of them.

"Then you shouldn't have any trouble with jumping jacks," he quips,
even as he sizes me up; those who act up in his classes are called
out onto the mats, where he lets them try and fight him, in front of
everyone.  "C'mon," Wolverine tells me.  "Ev'rybody's waiting."

He teaches gym.  Phys.Ed. for mutants.

Physical fitness.  The irony occurs to me, though I do not speak of
it.

"Very well," I say, and motion for him to lead the way out of here,
down to the exercise mats.

"You ever gonna get anything to put in your room?" Wolverine asks
me.  Yes, my small room, my private space, is undecorated by and
large.  Beyond a cot and a little recepticle for my clothes, what
more do I have need of?

Ah yes; I remember.

"What I need," I tell him as we leave, "is not something that would
fit in this room, or in all of this school's grounds."

"What's that?" he asks.

"Home."

My old home.

--------
It was the Kingship of Akenaten.  The center of the civilized world
was Amarna.  All things were ruled by the great god Aten, whose
living representation on Earth was Akenaten, lord of the Two Lands.

I walk slowly into the throne room of the great and mighty, the lord
of Two Lands, the living emissary of Aten.  I could simply appear in
the room, but such an act has been forbidden years ago.  There are no
others in the room, very odd: not even Tut or Nefertari are present.
No servants fanning my lord Akenaten, nor any scribes to record our
words.  Even the guards and serving boys and girls are noticably
absent.

I kneel on the floor, prostrating myself before his glory.  "I have
arrived as per your summons, my lord my king my master."  I am your
right hand, ready as ever.

"When you were first brought before me," my king says, "I could have
ordered your death."  There is nothing to say to that - it is truth,
and would have been his right.  "But Aten stayed my hand, and moved
me to task you suitably."

"For which I give daily thanks to you and the great Aten disk," I say
humbly.

"As you should."  Then he falls silent.  Disturbingly silent.

"My lord?" I ask, concerned.

"There are enemies of the true faith," he tells me.  "Those who would
delight in my death."

"Sick men, my lord.  Deranged lunatics who do not know their shadow
from their wife," I say.

"In many cases, yes.  But there are enough of them to trick the
populace into following them."  He sighs, a sound that bodes naught
but ill.  "Aten has seen fit to show me my death.  Within ten years,
I will be one with Aten Himself, and the infidels will once more
rule."

I draw in breath of my own, a gasp, a surprised noise that garners
his attention.  I know not what to say -- I dare not contradict Aten,
much less Akenaten -- but such terrible news.  "What do you wish me
to do?"  How many do I slay?

"Be determined," Akenaten my lord tells me, calmly, as though he has
not just revealed that he is going to die.  "When the blasphemers
return to power, they very likely will bring the Medjai with them.
Use the Medjai however you can; I forgive any trespasses you may make
in preserving the true faith."

"My thanks, my lord."

"That is all."  Time passes; minutes and seconds.  "Is there a
petition you wish me to hear?"

I bring myself to nod, even with my throat choked up.  "Yes, my
lord.  May I remain here longer, to bask in the radiant glory which
you bring to the world?"

He shakes his head, slowly, sadly.  "No.  I forbid it."  A
pause.  "Remember always, Aten is the sun.  Worship properly."  He
fixes his eyes on me.  "You may leave direct from here; I wish it."

I nod, and  *BAMF*

-------------
PRESENT DAY:

"Welcome to Westchester," Charles Xavier said to someone he hadn't
seen in a long time; a sight happier to meet than he'd been with
Stryker.

"I'm happy to be here," Alex O'Connell said.  "The old truce stands?"

Xavier nodded.  "It does," meaning he'd keep out of Alex's head, and
in return, Alex wouldn't let any spirits or things sic Charles.

"Tell you the truth, old chap, I'm very greatly looking forwards to
this vacation -"  And just then, overhead, there was a very loud
*BAMF*.  Alex's face was taut now.  "Bugger," he said.  "We thought
he was still confined at Alkali.  Well, there goes my vacation."

"`Alkali'?  As in Alkali Lake?" Xavier asked, and was answered with a
silent nod.  "He's one of my students," Charles said.  A new student,
only days since being enrolled in the school.  "Are you sure about
this?"

"The Medjai elders were very insistant about the sound," Alex
said.  "`Bamf' is what they have relayed through the generations,
alongside the names of the doomed."  He hesitated.  "Is there -
somewhere secure here, that we could discuss this matter?"  Without
being overheard, if that's possible.

Once they were in Xavier's office, "I brought reference material for
you to look over," pulling a folder out of his knapsack.

"I thought you said -"

`We thought he was still confined at Alkali.'  "I know what I said,
old friend.  But I'm still an O'Connell  --  which means I always
travel prepared."  Xavier seemed hesitant, almost doubt
(ing/ful).  "Look, Charles," Alex says, "just look at the
photographs.  Ask me any questions about them that you want to.
Just...don't doubt me simply because I'm inconvenient."

Xavier considers, then nods.  "Very well," and accepts the papers
from his old friend.

While his friend was looking over the material, Alex looked around
the office.  Never much gifted when it came to his nose, there wasn't
anything he could smell.  But the sights alone compensated for that.
From the quirky paperweight holding down a stack of graded papers  to
the blotter on his desk, Xavier was no more a spartan man than he'd
been a spartan teen.  Upon the shelves, there were books by Stephen
Hawking, T.H.White, and a score of others.  Physics, classical
literature, mythology, biology.  A perfectly apt collection for a
headmaster of mutants.

"When," Xavier asks after several minutes of examining the first few
pictures, "was this picture of monkeys taken?"

"1920, at the Temple of Ramses II," Alex said, relieved that his old
pal was at least showing some curiosity regarding the matter.  "And
they're baboons."  He said nothing about the second photo of the
baboons, one taken years later -- in preparation for the dismantling
for the Temple's relocation under United Nations auspices...the
second photo was of the baboon's backsides, and one of them had a
long tail, a tail with a phlanged tip.

Imhotep had lived once in the Old Kingdom, and had been re-released
upon the Earth -- for reason the Medjai still debated -- during the
reign of Seti I.  But by the time of the New Kingdom, the Old Kingdom
Imhotep had become regarded as a god.  Similar forces, among the
royal court rather than the commoners, had led to the tail of that
baboon -- Ramses II had been trying to show that he was lord over
even the slayer.

Then Xavier came to the last photograph.  A photograph of Alex
standing next to an aged carving.  A carving that was life-sized.

Humanoid, with partly-fused fingers and toes.  The remaining flecks
of paint were neither the red nor white traditional for depictions of
humans -- nor the green of Osiris.  A same-colored tail ended in a
pointed tip, with phlanges of skin to either side of it.

Charles looked at it for long minutes.  "How is this possible?" he
asked.  As far as he could tell, it was identical to one of his new
students.

To one Kurt Wagner.  To Nightcrawler.

"As I was trying to tell you," Alex said without offense in his voice.
--------
tbc.

It's up there!

=====
~~~~~~~~Miss November Tuesday~~~~~~~
fanfic ~ original erotica ~ true stories
~~~~~~~~~~www.novemberotica.com~~~~~~~~~~

Title: X-Book 2: Shadows and Steel - Chapter 25: Stryker's Price

By: Kath713/Leen713

Rating: PG-13 (violence, language)

Genre: Crossover, SPOILERS FOR X2

Summary: See Chpt 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing in regards to the Marvel characters or
any character from a previously published source portrayed in this
story.

***

Chapter Twenty-Five:

The office was dimly lit, located too far below ground for windows.
The only illumination came from a small desk lamp, and its stark
light cast black shadows around the room.  It was strangely
furnished with one black desk surrounded by a wide variety of
computers and electronic screens, which were all currently not
powered up.  The monitors stared blankly at the room's only occupant
like a dozen dead and shining eyes reflecting back dimly.

General William Stryker sat at the desk, his eyes closed with
frightening serenity.  His chin was resting gently against the
fingertips of his steepled hands, as if he were lost in silent
prayer.  His brow was furrowed slightly, the desk lamp alighting his
lined and weathered features in such a way that his eyes seemed
quite deeply set back in his face.

But, prayers and meditating thoughts were not what now preoccupied
him.

He was waiting, with quiet patience, for an expected phone call.

It had hardly been two hours since the prototype was dispatched on
its first mission, but Stryker knew any conflict would not last long.

The black phone sitting to his left rang sharply in the silent
office.  Stryker lowered his hands and reached for the receiver with
a curious, though unpleasant, expression.  He lifted it carefully
from the cradle and held it to his ear.

"Report," was all his said, though the tone was light and
conversational.  He had been in a very agreeable mood since he
watched the Sentinel fly away from his base, and the reply he
received made him smile.  The expression was horrid in the shadows,
his eyes shining from the dark sockets and his top row of teeth
exposed to the gums.

"The Sentinel is returning, sir," the voice of a random solder said
quickly, "It has acquired three mutants successfully...all are
believed to be unconscious but alive."

"Lensherr?" Stryker asked and there was a long pause before the
soldier replied.

"No, sir," the soldier said, "He escaped in one of our
helicopters..."

Stryker's grin widened.  There had been a reason he had insisted on
sending regular, metallic aircraft.

The soldier continued to speak, "He seems to have abandoned it in an
airfield outside the city.  His implanted locator is out of range,
but recon reports an unregistered aircraft is currently following
the Sentinel's path..."

"Excellent," Stryker said softly, and then spoke commandingly over
the phone, "Tell recon to keep tracking that jet and keep me
posted.  You others begin heading back to the base.  I want you to
maintain positions outside this compound.  If Lensherr wants in,
we're gonna be damn sure he doesn't get out."

"Sir, there's something else," the soldier said quickly, "The
Wolverine was sighted by our ground troops, along with several other
mutants identified in our files as prior threats to..."

"Don't concern yourself with them, soldier," Stryker
interrupted, "Lensherr and Charles Xavier have been setting their
own against each other for years.  If mutants want to kill each
other, we won't be the ones to stop them.  However, if Xavier's
mutants also assume the need to find where our little prototype came
from, we'll be ready for them.  In the end, those two and their
followers may do the world a favor and destroy each other."

Stryker laughed suddenly at this thought, his voice harsh and
barking.  The soldier on the other end of the phone flinched
involuntarily at the noise.

"My orders stand, soldier," the General finally said, "Keep
positions until further notice."

"Yes, sir," the soldier replied and then the line clicked and fell
dead.

Stryker put the receiver down gently, and continued to smile.  Eight
months of planning were finally coming to fruition.  With Lensherr
approaching, what had begun at Alkalai Lake would finally end...and
mutants, those freaks of all things natural, would perish under
Stryker's orders, even if he had to kill them one at a time...

Suddenly, the black phone rang again, and Stryker frowned.  He
picked up the receiver quickly, assuming there must be some problem
with the mission, and anger filled his face.

"Yes," he shouted, "Report!"

"Good evening, William," a low and overly pleasant voice said and
the anger in the General's face changed quickly into fear, "I trust
all went well...with your little test tonight?"

Stryker felt a cold sweat break down his spine and he took a deep
breath to keep his voice from shaking.

"Yes..." he repeated, "Everything...everything went perfectly..."

"Not...quite perfect...correct?" the voice scolded gently, as a
parent would to a child.

Stryker shook his head, "No...no, not quite perfect.
Lensherr...escaped..."

"I'm very sorry to hear that, William," the stranger said
sympathetically, "But I'm confident you will get what you want very
soon."

The voice of the stranger on the other end of the line then became
more vicious.

"In the meantime...I do believe that machine did take a few other
things from the scene, did it not?  And those things
are...currently...still alive...aren't they?"

Stryker nodded, "Yes...it did...they are."

"It would be a great shame if they came to some...harm...before I
arrived to collect them..." the voice said threateningly, "In fact,
it would be a shame if any of the approaching mutants were
somehow...killed...before they had been put to their own uses..."

Stryker was breathing heavily as the stranger spoke.  His free hand
began to shake, and slowly, out of his control, drew a loaded gun
from his desk drawer.  Stryker did not bother to struggle as his own
hand pointed the gun to his temple.  The stranger's voice
reverberated over the line and the receiver shuttered.

"It would be a great shame..." the voice said to the General, "...if
your uses...your promises... ran out, before you were able to
complete your work."

Stryker nodded again, and even though the stranger was communicating
with him from a great distance over the phone, the General had no
doubt the stranger knew his every movement.

"Very good," the voice said, and Stryker's armed hand fell away as
he regained control of his limbs, "I'm glad we understand each
other.  You keep your promise..."

The stranger waited for Stryker to repeat his vow.

"To give you what you want..."

The voice sounded pleased, "And I will keep my promise.  To help you
achieve your goals.  To free this world of the plague known
at 'mutants.'  Once my work is complete...no mutant will remain on
this earth..."

The stranger then sounded quite friendly again, "Good bye, William.
It's been wonderful talking with you again."

             Click.

The line once again fell dead, and Stryker's hand trembled as the
receiver fell from his grip.  The entire office seemed to have
filled with a numbing cold, the sensation Stryker remembered from
his near demise at Alkalai Lake.  The one and only day he had seen
the stranger in person.

            <<Give me what I want.>>

The memory of the stranger's words pounded in his mind.

Shortly after the stranger had helped him escape a water death,
Stryker began to receive numerous phone calls, always the same
greeting tone, always the vicious demands.

<<Gather them, William.  Gather them, but do not kill them.  I want
them alive.  Any.  All.  All but Lensherr.I promise, he will be
yours to destroy as you please.>>

The General, in the moment of failure after the dam broke, had
wanted nothing more than what the stranger promised.  A chance for
revenge, a new chance to solve the 'mutant problem,' the mutant
plague.

And the stranger had not disappointed, giving Stryker power and
technology beyond his imagination, the means to the ultimate end of
mutant kind.

At one...simple...non-negotiable...price.

The mutants, as much as possible, would be taken alive.  Gathered by
Stryker's new Sentinels, and then given to the stranger when the
time came.

For what reason, Stryker did not know.  He did not care.  At least,
he thought he did not care.

The stranger was not one to question.  He was powerful, unseen,
dangerous.and had proven his ability to control Stryker and his men
without ever appearing in person.  No failure or mistake would be
acceptable.  With such powers, the stranger could have been a mutant
himself for all the General knew, but somehow he doubted it.

Somehow...he doubted the stranger from the wilderness was anything
that close to human.

Stryker stood and marched quickly out of his office.  The Sentinel
was returning and his enemies were approaching.  He would worry
about the arrival of the stranger when it was imminent.  Any
lingering thoughts were shoved away, any emotion or empathy buried
under his hate, and Stryker barked orders to his men to prepare for
their 'guests.'
***
Archived www.fanfiction.net/~leen713