The X-Writer's Present: X-Factor #122 Storyteller: Jon Bartley Editor: Marysia "*...Post...*" --------------------------------------------------------------------------- X-Writers is a group of non-profit email storytellers that use Marvel-owned characters in their own continuity. They are used without permission, but no harm is done, so why bother getting yer panties all ruffed up? Note I: Suggested for Mature readers Note II: These events take place before the events in X-Force and at about the same time of Excalibur #94. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Can't you do anything right?" screamed Sean Pierce into the face of his younger brother, Sydney. It was a few days ago that Sydney and his sister, Astra, who is coincidentally ''dead'' on this plane, but still manages to survive, attacked one of the mutant departments in Washington D.C. They attacked the department, but as the redundant story goes, a superhero who was too anxious to get the job done defeated both of them. In continuing the story, their 'boss' gets angry. "I can do plenty of things right -- I don't see you doing anything to help us out -- and, stopping the corrupt government from thinking only of themselves and not the American people is something I do very well. But at the time we attacked that department, some kid, who was better at controlling his powers that I, stopped me. I don't think anyone else could've seen him coming. Now -- let me go." Sydney stated as Sean let go of the scruff of his neck. The two men walked away from each other slowly. "I'm sorry I jumped on you like this, but I only wish to stop these... outrageous government officials that would rather bring in captive cold-blooded killers to these united states and risk it's people's lives than to worry about the killers that aren't captive within *this* country." "I know." Sean and Sydney embraced each other with a brotherly hug. "Where's Astra?" Sean asked, still hugging his brother. "I don't know of an answer for that. Whatever that kid did to her, it was powerful enough to disrupt her on the astral plane." * * * * * He is in her dreams again. For the fourth night this week, he is in every dream she can think up. His muscles are as young and primed as the day she met him, but what exactly is coloured on his bloody skin? Screams, she thinks, as she moves toward him in her dreamscape. He looks lovely to her as he wears the blood around his teeth and blows her a kiss from these same lips. The kiss dances around her head for what seems to be ten minutes. She can feel thousands of his kisses on her body, just before he pulls her throat out... Her name is Mystique. Raven Darkholme, to some. To others, she's a nameless mutant. She has the mutant ability to change her form into any humanoid form she can possibly think of. But the one form she is in now, seems more true to how she feels. Her skin is a dark blue and her long hair is red, bright red. The kind of red that you see doused on the bloody walls of this planet. Raven's eyes open, not suddenly, like in the movies, but they open so that it seems like she's been awake for hours. Real quick, but not suddenly. There's a difference. Her comforter is around her upper body. Raven feels her nails clawing into it. Her under sheets are balled at the foot of the bed she sleeps in here at Falls Edge. Her nails still claw into the comforter. Most nights she sleeps in the nude. Mostly to let her body air out. But there's a sense of that being dirty that pushes Mystique into sleeping with no form of clothing on. Nudity is dirty. Most parents teach it to their children in some way or another. Little babies take their dippers off and run around outside. Dad is embarrassed by his child's nudity and it latches on to the child. That's why Mystique sleeps in the nude, if a reason has to be given. But tonight, she doesn't sleep nude. To her, nudity is a form of vulnerability. Maybe because today's society spends a great deal of their days in clothing and stepping out of it at night to see someone that they seldom see during the day does something to them. It makes people regress into teen-agers almost. When your pants are around your ankles, you can't run out the front door. Vulnerability... To Raven, sleep is facing yourself and to do that, vulnerability is your only door. You deal with the past day in your dreams. Mystique gives odd numbers of reasons for the things she does, never repeating the same answer twice, but they really aren't important. The only thing that matters now is answering the question, Why is Victor Creed in her dreams? Raven still claws into the comforter. Does she hold it in front of her as if it were some sort of shield? Perhaps it is symbolically Victor Creed's torso and the fact of letting go of that part of her scares her. In life and as well as death, one needs the part of them they hate just as much as the part of them they like. Sometimes some of us blend the two, for the fear of facing both of them consumes us. Raven knows this to be true. Mystique begins to move out of all her sheets. She wears a grey, night gown that covers her completely. She's sweating like a pig. 'I like the way fear smells on ya, Leni...' Creed would've said. In fact, he did a few times during the ending of their affair together. Raven walked across the room in her night gown, trying to make out the objects on the floor in the darkness. For the last few nights, along with the nightmares, she had spotted a few crickets, known for their ability to survive through most poisons and smushings and also their high jumping. Just like Creed -- both of them. She could see none in sight. Mystique wasn't afraid of them, they just bugged her -- just like Creed -- both of them. She detested the cricket's and Victor's lives to the fullest extent. She could hate Creed more than the families of those he's killed. Why? Because she has seen his intimate side, the part that makes the man. That's why. Mystique stepped out of her night gown and proceeded toward the shower. She had to wash the nightmare off of her. Creed off her. * * * * * Inside Lorna Dane, sometimes and forever known as Polaris, the green-haired metal witch shot up out of her and Alex's bed, pushing every item in way out of it, and cursing it. She waved her hands around and felt along the dresser to the left of her bed for a tissue box. "Oh..." Lorna sniffed. She was catching a sickness. Finally, her hand came across the dusty surface of what appeared in the darkness to be a tissue box. Now Lorna remembered. She hadn't bought another tissue box since she became a member of the X-Factor team. Procrastination? Whatever. As Lorna pulled the tissue out of the box, she came to the horrible reality that in the prelude to the flu and her running nose, the box was empty. "Oh no. No. Ah..." she said, making sniffling, sighing and other noises one makes during a fit like this. "It's gonna rain. I know it. In her profession, Lorna was expected to be in perfect health as well as her powers to be perfect beyond measure. Also, today was the day in which she was assigned to bring the cold-blooded killer known as Spoor, a perfect name, to Washington, D.C from Muir Isle. Usually only a few mutants would be assigned for a task such as this. One to hold the killer, while the other beat some sense in him or her. But an assignment like this is handled very carefully, for this killer has the mutant ability to produce a strong pheromone. This pheromone makes many susceptible to Spoor's mood or will. A very strong power to have indeed. The unfortunate part is that today Lorna won't be joining them. In other words, a replacement will have to be chosen. * * * * * Somewhere in North America, within a mansion that hasn't been used in quite some time, a colony of candles flickers inside the living and main room of the mansion. Two figures -- more important to this world than either of them know -- sit in dusty chairs. The first one is a compilation of two men. The body is of the recently diseased, Jamie Maddrox and, the mind, soul and other assorted parts are of John Grounds, Imposter. John is an original mutant. His power is unique, yes. But also, he has no hidden agenda or desire to be 'hero' or 'villain'. He has the ability to take a dead body and 'shove' his mind into it, controlling it. John is sixteen years old and, has the power down to an act as simple as moving your finger. The second figure is Random. Only hours ago, he was teleported to this mansion from Virginia by an unknown source. Random wish he knew what it was, because -- and though he would never tell anyone this -- the process felt good. Like being held. "Are you sure I can't offer you a Pepsi? I thought they were popular in your country." Imposter said. Random sat back in his chair. "They are. I like Dr. Pepper." "Oh no. I didn't bring any of those. I'm sorry. Truly, I can't tell the difference." "When you said that you though they were popular in 'this country', what did you mean by that? Are you a foreigner?" "Foreigner?" John adjusted his bottom in the filthy chair he sat in. "I'm not so sure you would label me that. Well... I was born here in the U.S. New York, to be exact. But at about the age of five me and my mother moved into Europe. I now live in Genosha. Hah... We moved to Genosha in hopes to escape the bigotry that seemed so welcome in America, my mother says. Boy, we were wrong. Damn. Dr. Pepper... I knew there was something appealing about it. Anyway, what were you doing before... someone teleported you here?" Random stood to his feet and began to walk around the room. "Nothing, really." He smiled. "Just reflecting on the past and think of the future. The future of all things connected to me." "You know, the past is like a man and the future is a lady." "How?" Random moved across the room and picked a coca cola from the open ice chest. "The past -- like a man -- isn't usually subject to change. Like a lady, the future can change her mind." Random popped the lid to the soda. "Exactly..." He smiled * * * * * He felt it again. Nothing. Forge always felt it just before he woke up. The nothingness. Imagine losing a leg and a hand. Imagine building those lost limbs. Now... imagine waking up every morning and feeling the pain of those lost limbs, almost feeling them move, then just before you reach down to feel for them... to feel for the flesh, you feel cold metal at the same time you feel those parts of your body die again -- in a sense. Now, with that in mind, imagine that you keep a part of your heart is as cold as that metal, because you don't want to wake every morning and feel your heart die again. Just a part of it. That's how Forge feels. Forge shoots up in his bed. His chest is naked and sweating as a wire clings to it. A metal headset is around his neck, resting on his shoulders and a loud repeated noise emits from it. The side of his bed beeps over and over again. He glances at the CD Conduit beside his bed and then to the beeping. The conduit blinks 'REPEAT' and, the beeping comes from his COMM conduit. Late last night, he was listening to a Nirvana CD. Not his usual music, but it was something Wild Child, Kyle Gibney, had said to him that intrigued him. It was a lyric from one of the songs. He forgets what is was now. Forge was growing in some ways. "Damn... Who *huff* would be 'CL'ing me at this time of..." Forge said, as he lifted the head set to his ears and shut off the CD. He spoke into the communicator now around his ears. The mike of the set was flimsy. "Yes. This is For -- Oh? Lor? Well, yes I know that... Really? McConfith's? I'll be right down. Tell Alex I want him to get a complete physical. And yes, I know he can be an ass." * * * * * Inside Mystique's room, she adjusts the coat portion of her recently updated costume. She had just stepped out of the shower. She doesn't usually take one this early in the morning. Usually. Raven Darkholme is a bitch. One, for her acts of blackmail, lying, to name a few. And two, her hair dries fast. Mystique began to move toward the door. Thousands of infrared beams are still active outside the door to her room. Forge installed them just for her. Flattery? 'No,' Raven thinks, 'he's just being annoying.' She opens the door and steps outside. The beams aren't visible, but Forge made the foolish mistake of programming the alarms to blare *only* if the beams detected her biosignature. How foolish, she thought. Mystique grabbed a bag of marbles she stole from Kyle's AD&D Game. She poured a few of them into her hand and threw them down the hall toward the exit to the lower floor. Suddenly, as the marbles past through the beams, the multi-coloured beams were visible for a split second. At that same moment, she shut her eyes to preserve the light fragments in her memory. Raven walked out of her room and began to step over the beams with her memory 'seeing' the beams. She hoped that they didn't move. Trying to figure out where exactly she was, she stopped, but then jumped up, completed a triple flip and slid under the rest of the beams. At last, after minorly breaking a sweat, Mystique dusted herself off and proceeded down the stairway to the lower level, to Forge's laboratory... Moments later... Mystique finds herself in the open doorway of that laboratory. The room is dark and several items stand out in the darkness, mostly metal ones. Items that Forge has invented. Some he hasn't. And some that have a funny story behind them. She walks in the darkness across the room over to one of the main computers. It is already activated. Raven, remembering from a previous date how Forge operated it, sat down and clicked of the FILE menu, then the FIND menu. A white box popped on the screen rather quickly with a blink cursor and a line of empty text. The title of the box read, 'FIND -- Type Name OR Place.' She typed: 'Creed, Victor.' * * * * * Along the quiet streets of Buzzwood in Los Angeles, California, the teenaged boy known to this world only as FastLane races these streets in hopes to find what every teenaged super hero looks for -- a quick, easy, and nationally headlined save. FastLane's powers are simple. He has the mutant ability to bend space/time warps and glide through them. This 'gliding' gives him the ability to run fast, throw fast, dense punches and find objects that have slipped through the warps. He suddenly stops in front of a quiet-looking home. The window of this home holds showcase to a very sickening display of spousal abuse. The figures are hard to make out, but hitting and other violent acts are seen quite clearly. FastLane began to run, bending the warps existing around him. Each time he used his powers, FastLane tried to push himself a little harder. He was his own teacher, and he knew when enough was enough, now matter how good it felt. He vibrated through the walls of this house and he hit the husband of the two fighting, knocking him to the floor. There is usually some disorientation after even brushing with space/time warps. FastLane shook his head and began to try and focus his vision again. The man he now sat on top of began to struggle with the young man sitting on his chest. "Get off of me!" he yelled. "Yeah that's exactly what I'm going to do! Not until after you've answered for you--" FastLane stopped in midsentence as his eyes focused completely. The husband in the couple had a band aid across his left eyebrow, bruised eyes, and a slash mark across his face, still bleeding. He looked behind him and saw the wife in the couple. She wore bruised knuckles and a butcher knife in her right hand. "Yeah," the wife began, "hold him down. That's what I've been trying to do for the last few minutes. ...telling me what I have to do... I'll kill you, Michael!" "Oh..." FastLane pulled himself off of the man. "What --" "Well, the trash has be taken out, Kara! Y'know I can't do it without a great deal of difficulty." The man FastLane knew now as Michael pulled himself away from the woman. His legs were in braces. "Was she... I've never..." "Yeah. That's what the cops, her family, and my mother said. Honestly kid, who did you think was doing what to who here?" "I guess I thought --" FastLane turned to the woman. "This ain't gonna be easy, miss..." * * * * * Inside Dr. Freddie McConfith's office at Falls Edge, Forge is just arriving in full uniform. As he walks through the door, he sees the good doctor and Lorna talking in the corner of the office. The next person he sees is someone that he hasn't seen in quite some time. Alex Summers. "Havok... How are you?" Forge said, walking toward Summers. "The doctor is figuring that out." Alex said. "Well then, how do you feel?" "Not too good. My mouth is dry, my stomach is empty and Dr. McConfith, I believe his name is, says to wait a few more minutes til I eat or drink anything. Yeah..." "Yes, we'll fix that in a while. For now, I want to know --" "*sniff*!" Forge's speech was cut off by Lorna's ongoing battle with the sniffles. "Lorna... Are you sick?" "I'm sorry, Forge. I thought I could take some decongestant, but I think--" "Go back to bed. You're out of duty until further notice. As I was saying, how did this happen? I mean, you -- where were you?" "It's the strangest thing. I wake up in shackles, find a way to get out of them and aid a dying mutant. He teleports me -- I think that's what he did -- here and I don't even want to know where he went. Next thing I can recall, Lorna starts shaking to wake me up. She's in tears, either from joy or allergies. Possibly both. She runs me here and -- Poof! There ya go!" Forge paced in front of Alex and flicked his finger, gesturing for Lorna to go back to her room. Lorna left the room as Dr. McConfith worked at the back table to achieve something that at the time was no importance to Forge. "Well, this mutant should make me wonder, but I'm just thrilled to have one of the best members of this team back and to know where he is." Forge shifted his head toward the doctor. "Diagnosis, Bones?" "Alex is fine, Oh. Here... Want the rest of my eggs, Al?" Alex reached his hands out and grabbed the plate of eggs. "Yeah, and don't call me Al." "Okay," McConfith continued, "it's just he's going through puberty." "Didn't I do that already?" Alex said, with a mouthful of eggs. "Your powers haven't. It's just a theory. Many doctors are coming forward with their take on it now a-days. It's just a shame many mutants die before their powers go into the phase of taking their powers from childhood to adulthood. Sure, their powers are pretty powerful when they turn about 13, but their powers grow when the mutant reaches a certain age. These power outages -- in my opinion -- are like uh... Well.. The power you can't seem to control seems to be more severe and dangerous than previous dates. I think you can't control it, because... Well, I'll save you another puberty analogy." Alex sulked. "Wow... I guess now would be a great time to talk to Apocalypse." * * * * * Inside Forge's Lab, Mystique punches away at one of the active keyboards in the darkness. 'If Forge doesn't wake up for another few minutes, I can get in and get out and no one's hurt,' Raven thought. She sat back and twiddles her fingers at the keys. The screen read, 'WAIT...' It is the age of technology. Computers are taking over and Mystique knew enough knowledge about them. Enough. The smell of Forge was in the lab. Raven remembered it well. "Smells like motor oil." When was the first time she felt the smell instead of smelling it? Fitzroy... Of course. Raven hated computers and loved Forge. Did she? Or did she lust after him. 'Who the fuck cares, Raven,' she told herself. In the age of loveless sex, not even the romantics cared about love any more. It was all about smooth skin and Pamela Lee. Finally, the screen blinked and a large text document appeared. The menu read, 'Results of Search -- Creed, Victor Last Update: ' "Alright... 'Victor Creed was... blah, blah...' Get to the good stuff...." Raven hit the Page Down button. "'Blah blah.... Did this... did that... Where this fuck is he now...'" Suddenly, she felt two hands on the back of her seat press down on the backing of the chair. "Motor oil? Press Page Down another time, and you'll find out nobody knows. Or at least they're not saying anything if they do. 'Now that's Lt. Dan.,' Raven wanted to say. But it wasn't anyone named Dan. Nonetheless, it was someone who could infest the same shock Forest Gump got. Not shocking like 'jump-out-of-yer-seat' shocking. But an 'oh-shit' shocking. She froze and slowly turned her head. "Well, well. I don't want to know how you got out of your room, or why you're looking for Sabretooth, but I do want to know why your lips are covered with what I'm guessing is my Oreoes." Forge accused. Raven slowly handed him an empty pack of Oreo cookies from beside the mouse of the computer. Forge sighed. "We're going to pick up Spoor today." "Yea..." "Lorna's sick and can't make it." "Boo-hoo." "And you're going to take her place. Get your stuff." "Shit." * * * * * As Mystique, Wild Child, Forge, and Val Cooper board the Cobalt 2X stealth plane, Alex, dressed in casual clothing with his containment suit underneath, and a very congested Lorna stand a great deal away from the carrier as the engines roar up. Alex steps forward rather suddenly and calls to Forge as he climbs the massive steps. "Forge?" "Eh?" Forge looks behind him. "I might... not be here when you return." "Tell me this is a joke." "It isn't. With what I've learned about what I might be going through and the near hour-long conversation I had with Lorna, I'm really... not what the government needs to make this team what it should be. I'd be extra baggage. That heavy kind that stinks like the crying baby on the plane." "Where will you go?" "I don't know. There's this gal I know in Reno." "Well ..." * * * * * With it's destination Muir Isle, Forge piloted the Cobalt 2X plane with ease. A small cord shot from his robotic wrist and inserted itself into a unit left of the navigational centre. Forge lifted a soda can to his lips and took a sip. "Mystique?" he called back from the front of the plane. "Yes?" Raven was strapped into a device that seemed to have no purpose. A bar came down from above and latched her in place. "I need you to secure the unit that is going to keep Spoor in place on the ride home. The cables lowering him inside just need to lined up inside the colour-coded channels. Make sure the psi bolts are tight. Not tight, tight-tight. The bolts need to be extra tight or the electricity conduits won't click into bolts." "All... right." Mystique pushed the loosely adjusted device around her open and got up from the seat -- if you can call it that -- and walked into the back of the plane. She opened a sliding door and peaked inside. The back room looked like the engine room. Rotating blades and buzzing sounds. Extreme heat. Nonetheless, she entered. Within a few minutes, Raven had completed the task Forge assigned to her. Mystique returned to her seat without lowering the bar. She slumped in her seat and closed her eyed. Maybe she could get a few extra winks before it was time to get up and help without the psycho. "Wake me when we get... to.. the pla --*" As Mystique drifted away into the land of sleep, she heard the familiar sounds of Forge and his noisy hand and leg. She heard the conversations he had with the rest of the members on the plane for a while, then it seemed to fade away. Some say in your dreams, you control what goes on. You can play by your own rules, they're your dreams, after all. Mystique is the master of her form. Control of her dreams and her form within her dreams together... now that's a show. Mystique stood in the middle of her dreamscape. Words of hate floated around her. It was like tangible pieces of paper, distancing themselves and growing in every way -- into walls. The words on the papers become more intense. Yet only one word stuck out among them all... -- Darkholme-Creed. "" a psionic voice boomed out from directly in front of her. In her dreams, things tended to have more intensity. The voice belonged to Victor Creed, Sabretooth. "" "" "" A large photo of Mystique and Kurt Wagner, at age fifteen stood on the opposite side of Mystique. "" Raven walked toward the image of Creed. "" "" "" Creed laughed. "" "" The image of Creed walked up to Raven, standing only feet away from her and said: "" He pushed his arms outward and shook Raven. "" Raven opened her eyes to see the image of Creed replaced by an image of Wild Child, shaking her. "Wake up..." Mystique got up and walked around a few minutes. Within a few minutes, she became aware that they were bringing Psylocke back to the state with them. As Betsy and Brian Braddock said their goodbyes, Kurt made eye contact questioningly with Mystique as they secured Spoor. She led him down to the cockpit where they had some privacy. "It is... good to see you again Kurt." He was silent. "I suppose I should apologise for... well for a lot of things. I'm sorry it was so long before you found out I was alive. I guess once you've let your son go once it's easy to do it again. But... I never stopped thinking about you." She reached out and took his hand. "I may not be the mother you always wanted Kurt, but I am your mother and I will always... love you. I would like it if we could at least keep in touch from now on. Will you do that for me?" He cleared his throat nervously. "I would like that Mystique, very much." It was as if that photograph of Kurt as a boy from Raven's dream had now been replaced with happy picture of Kurt Wagner and Raven Darkholme. A happy picture, yes, but it the photo hasn't quite yet developed... * * * * * Within the halls of the Mutant Holding Cell station, Dr. Val Cooper scribbled her signature onto a few pieces of paper at a counter which could be labelled, 'Check-In'. As she did this, a small army of men handled the crate that held the mutant, Spoor, very carefully. "Uh... Doctor? You sure that collar's secure en' stuff?" one man asked. "I don't know... How do you feel about me?" she asked. "Um... Well -- In my book you're kind-of --" "Stay there, I'll come over and fasten it." While Val helped out the group of men, Forge leaned against a wall as another mutant was brought in. It was a woman. "I tell ya! You've got the wrong person!" she yelled. "Oh yeah?" the guard snickered. "My name is Mandy, not Mandi!" Forge shook his head. "It's a shame..." "Yeah..." Wild Child agreed and turned his head opposite of Forge. Raven, standing on the other side of Forge, began to recall her dream earlier today. The image of Creed told her she had to take positive action in her life. It was getting harder to recall the dream. Suddenly, without another thought passing through her mind, Raven took her left hand and sculpted her palm under Forge's chin, turning it toward her. She pressed her lips against Forge's as the inventor's eyes shot out like bullets. Mystique pulled herself away from Forge. With her left hand still around his chin, she slapped him with her right hand. "Don't ever do that again!!" Wild Child turned his head back to see Forge. "What the hell...?" Forge put his hand against his cheek. It was bleeding. He moved it to his lips. They were bleeding, too. From her kiss. She tasted like one thousand slaps. "Did you... Not the guy..." "Well, I ... Heh... Guess I deserved it." Forge looked down the hall. Mystique was walking away from him, heading back to Cobalt 2X. She mouthed the words: "You asked for it." Forge smiled. THE END -- Amethyst -- Keeper of the Labyrinth Flame | "Methinks the Rewrite Fairy stopped to have and Holy Virgin of Scotland | a shit on my dialogue while poncing through http://minuteman.com/x-writers | the Marvel office last month." Warren Ellis http://www.eskimo.com/~ash/ | "Maduriera ate my hamster." Vorpal Bunny http://gwis2.circ.gwu.edu/~hawk | "Breasts. That's the answer." Charlie Ball