X-Writers is a non-profit, fan-fiction writers group using characters copyright to Marvel Entertainments without their permission. ---------------------------------------------- X-Force #51 "The Real World: California" by Elizabeth Celeste ---------------------------------------------- "I am never flying coach again." James Proudstar stood in the middle of the airport, an attempted to stretch his aching back. Six hours in the confines of the plane from Atlanta had not only cramped every one of the (many) muscles on his large frame, but put him in foul mood as well. At least he wasn't the only one on the team who was suffering. Shatterstar, Caliban, Rictor, Boomer, and Siryn all appeared equally uncomfortable. X-Force didn't use to have these problems. "I didn't think the trip was that bad," Roberto DaCosta, the living solar battery known as Sunspot, smiled, his image inducer making him appear the young Brazilian Man he once was. He had been stuck in his powered up form since the whole Reignfire Incident weeks earlier. "You sure you were on the same plane I was Bobby? You get hit on the head or somethin'?" Tabitha Smith, Boomer to most had spent the entire flight sitting next to Roberto, listening to his dissertation on the relationship between Thomas Magnum and the Holt Detective Agency. It was a dissertation that had made her persistent air sickness a relief. "What is, is. There is no point in complaining about the flight." He had missed the sarcasm. He had been acting funny since the Reignfire Incident, something about his behaviour and speech was just a little, well *off*. "A true Warrior does not fly coach. Even the dogs of Mojo furnished superior transport." Shatterstar, the teams resident enigmatic trans-dimensional alien warrior was making a joke. Possibly. "'Star, was that supposed to be a joke?" Rictor, the teams "vibration specialist" was Shatterstar's best friend. It didn't mean he could tell if he was joking. "It doesn't matter if it was, we have to be gettin' out of the aisle." Theresa Rourke, known as Siryn for her sonic screams, was the oldest of the motley group known as X-Force. And the one in charge. "Head Count time.....Where's Caliban? He didn't just wander off again did he? I didn't spend the past six hours squashed next t' him only to lose him at the airport." "He is over there by the water fountain." Shatterstar, ever the observant one pointed. "Good. Jimmy- you take Bobby, grab Caliban and get the luggage. Here's the list. 'Star, Ric', Boomer- we're goin' to be gettin' the car. The teams can rendezvous downstairs by the rentals." Terry delegated them off, letting those who specialised in the strength area's be the one's to get the luggage. As the team separated, Warpath left with the impression that his group was quite definitely Team B. The Rental Section: "'Star- explain something- I've been back what? A week? And already I'm back on Team B." Rictor was bringing up his favourite subject- Why am I always on the Second Team? "I do not know. As a Warrior I would think this the first team." "Yeah, cars should rank over luggage. And Jimmy wound up with Caliban. Maybe I've finally been promoted?" The erstwhile Team A managed to find, with some searching, the rental car desks of the Los Angeles International Airport. "Man, this place makes Genosha look good," was Boomer's comment. "Look at these people" There was a shouting match going on at the Avis counter. 'What do you mean, 'Can't have a car!' Little man, I could own you." A flustered semi-famous actress was screaming at the Avis clerk, for the benefit of both the growing crowd, and paparazzi who had assembled. "Don't you know who I am! I'm.." "Sharon Blevins, Baywatch 90210." Both Sharon and the clerk recited in unison. "I know who you are ma'am. However for insurance reasons I cannot give you a car with out a *valid* drivers licence that states you are at least 25." The clerk had assumed the snide tone that only the underpaid and under appreciated can. Sharon started screaming again. "I make enough to by your company. I'm old enough to be naked on National Television, every Wednesday at 10pm. I want a car. I need a car. Now." The small mini-cam unit, labelled "Hard Copy", had managed to capture every word on film. Sharon wasn't much of an actress, but she knew self promotion. If she was going to make a scene, no reason not to plug the show. Meanwhile the other rental car agencies were placidly ignoring the firestorm. Apparently this kind of thing happened all the time in Los Angeles. Sharon started to break down into theatrical sobs, tears dripping down her perfect plastic nose, onto her ample famous silicone enhanced cleavage. It was exactly this talent, and her willingness to show her enhanced cleavage at the drop of a hat that had made her famous. But in this case it didn't work. "I can't give you a car. There are people waiting. Please leave now, before I call security. And could you take you're camera crew with you?" The clerk was getting desperate. There is after all only so much shameless self promotion one can take. Fortunately, Sharon took the hint and skulked off, followed intently by the Hard Copy crew. "I think we be having a wee problem now." Theresa's response was an understatement at best. Cable may have trained them to be the best mutant strike force on the planet, but he hadn't offered training in this. "We could time bomb the clerk." Tabitha's suggestion, while impractical was an expression of the sentiment of the entire room. Snide clerks and bad actresses deserved each other. "A warrior does not take criticism from rental clerks." Shatterstar was entirely serious. "As much as Cable and I had our disagreements, at least he was old enough to rent us a car. Kinda ironic." Rictor put his two cents in. "I never thought that we would have a problem like this. Nobody is going to age in the next five minutes." Much to the shock of her team-mates, Theresa responded, "I happen to have on me a Drivers Licence that claims I'm 26. When I first visited the States on a vacation, I got one, so I could go drinking. Only problem- I happened to be pretty young at the time." "How young? This isn't that horrid fake thing where you look like a groupie for Bon Jovi is it? That didn't fool me when we were in New York with the Fallen Angels. The only one who though it was real was Gomi, and he had problems." Tabitha rarely mentioned the time that she, Theresa, and Bobby had spent with the Fallen Angels. For good reason. But, sometimes old knowledge came in handy. "'Tis the same. We just have ta hope that he doesn't look too close." - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Meanwhile, at the Luggage Collection Warpath, leading what was most definitely Team B, led his crew around the horseshoe that was L.A.X. looking desperately for the luggage collection sight. Enhanced senses, speed, and strength were not keeping in the mass of the crowd, to find it. Sunspot and Caliban, trailing behind him in their image induced forms, were not much help either. Caliban may be the worlds best mutant tracker, but unfortunately, the luggage was well, luggage. It hadn't displayed any signs of mutant powers yet, and all concerned were relieved. What seemed like hours after they got off the plane, the three finally spotted the turning track. It still wasn't loaded. "Great. We spend twenty minutes trying to find the place, and then we have to wait for them to ship it out. Bobby- you stand here and guard the luggage, I'll get it off the carousel, and Caliban- you can carry it from here to Bobby" It seemed to Jimmy to be the safest arrangement of his little team. "Why does Caliban have to carry the bags. Caliban would rather stand." {His English is getting better} was Warpath's thought. "Do you two want to trade ?" "What is is, kiddo, I don't mind carrying" Sunspot was exposing Askani philosophy again. He'd been doing that a lot since the whole Reignfire Incident. It was a change from the old Roberto Da Costa, the one who worshipped the triple alter of soccer, girls and Magnum P.I. Of course the rest of the team had undergone a few changes from the Reignfire Affair as well. From their past as Cable's troops to a brief sojourn as expensive house guests at Xaviers, and now becoming freelance operators. So Roberto was acting a little unusual. Everyone else was too. Fortunately the Baggage Carousel started to turn and Jimmy became part of the Luggage grabbing teeming mass of humanity. Twenty Minutes of Hell and 23 different bags and boxes later the three were loaded down, Large suitcases were strapped, wedged, and placed as the overloaded threesome headed through the horseshoes' toward the rental car agencies. - - - - - - - "Here's the keys ma'am." the rental clerk had accepted the licence, with out even snickering at the picture of Theresa's poodle hair. That was more then her own team-mates had managed. Apparently bad hair was an integral part of Los Angeles. After a brief dream of fleeing and striking off on her own, Terry returned to her little entourage, keys in hand. After all the team leader couldn't very well quit. "I have some good news for ye, and bad news. What de ye want first? " "The Good," was the unanimous response. "I managed to get us a vehicle." "And the bad news?" Tabitha responded "We happen to be paying $120 a day for transport. And we now have a rather large, rather scary mini-van to show for it." "A mini-van is not the car of a warrior." - - - - - - - - The erstwhile Team B loaded with luggage, made it's way throughout the relentless crowds of perfect people to the rental area. Boomer had been left behind to meet them. "Guy's you need to turn around- Siryn's got the car, and she's going to meet us at the loading area." Boomer seemed annoyed to have been left with messenger duty. So the entire group turned round and when back the way it came, across the airport, and out to the loading dock. Boomer didn't offer to help carry the bags. They piled up all of the luggage on the curb, and sat waiting for the van to arrive. Mini-vans appeared to be the fashionable thing this year, as several sleek black models drove past, as well as a collection of cars only seen at the LA airport. A high percentage of rare top end luxury and sports cars, accompanied by and equally high percentage of the low end models. None of them were X-Force's. Finally a large van, suffering from an ill advised red/orange two tone paint job came hurtling into view. To the dismay of the four sitting on the curb it came screeching to a halt in front of them. Apparently in an attempt to shut him up, Terry and Rictor had let Shatterstar drive. It was a transportational nightmare, and it was in the hands of X-Force. So with embarrassed comments as to the paint job, and bitching by all the team, all 47 pieces of luggage belonging to the team (The original 23, plus everyone's two carry-on's), were successfully loaded. Unfortunately this didn't leave any room for the loading of the team. After the dismissal of the idea of tying Caliban to the roof, (it probably violated local traffic regulations) the luggage was reloaded and placed up top, on back and any- where that bags could be put. The team was squished in, and Shatterstar forcibly removed from the drivers seat. And with great trepidation, X-Force entered the fabled Los Angeles gridlock. Fortunately for both the heavily armed team and their fellow highway denizens, Mr. Banks had suggested that they make hotel reservations before leaving Atlanta. He had even recommended a hotel, and provided a phone number. So the team trudged on throughout he smoggy air, safe in the knowledge that there were seven rooms waiting at the Holiday Inn. "What do ye mean, lost the reservations?" This was just not the teams day. When Theresa emerged from the office into the warm California afternoon, it was with a familiar refrain. "Do ye want the good news or the bad?" "Caliban wants dinner, not news." He was turning a little more purple, or maybe it was just the light. "I'll be givin' the good then. We got a room. The bad news is that we have exactly that. A room." Groans were emitted as the team, already over squished and crowded realised exactly how much space would be in one room with seven people. "I did manage to be gettin' us one wit' two beds?" As a leader like attempt to cheer the team, the bed joke had fallen flat. "Then lets get this stuff upstairs, and go eat. I could murder dinner right now, and I want a shower first." Rictor hit to the point of the afternoons disgruntlement. They were all pretty hungry. "Remind me to send for more towels then. It'll be dawn before I get a shower." Jimmy took aim of his chances of getting a shower while there was hot water, and didn't like them. So the least he could do was remember to acquire several towels, enough to cover his muscled frame. - - - - - - - Six hours and a $74 tab at the local "Pizza ShacK", the team was finally passed out in assorted positions across every flat surface in the room. The evenings highlight had been the discovery that not only was "Sharon Blevins of Baywatch fame" on the evening edition of Hard Copy, but so was part of X-Force. Ric' and 'Star could be seen leaning against the back wall, and Terry's hair had made it into parts of the clip. "How come I never get to be on TV? " "Aren't we still wanted by the government? This might not have been a good idea" "Nobody in the Federal Government is going to be watching Hard Copy." "Caliban watches Hard Copy. Why should the government not watch?" "Will ye turn off the TV? Some of us want to be gettin' to sleep. An I doubt the government is goin' t' care" ======================= Washington DC Val Cooper had suffered through a horrid day. Between the bombs dropped on Antarctica, the apparent involvement of both the X-Men and Magneto, and the deaths of the Avengers and countless screaming Acolytes, Val had been called to the floor. Finally, at 10 p.m. she had taken the phone of the hook, told Baldrick to go home, and headed off to her own lonely town- house. Dr. Valerie Cooper, National Security Council, former Government Liaison to X-Factor, Mutant Affairs Council, Project: Wideawake, her list of credits went on. Dr. Valerie Cooper was sitting on her couch, the cat eating her hair, watching the evening edition of Hard Copy. Midway through the article on the highly overpaid and under talented Miss Blevins, Val hit the freeze frame. There, standing at the Los Angeles airport was a good half of the known members of X-Force. A giant light bulb went off in Val's head. She disentangled a very disgruntled Emma from her hair and went to make a few phone calls. ================================ Los Angeles 3:37 a.m. Theresa Rourke was having a nightmare. She was kidnapped again, by that strange Zoe Culloden woman. Only this time, instead of Noah, Zoe was accompanied by a set of walking luggage. It went the same as last time- she and Deadpool were kidnapped from the asylum, as well as the little boy. They were all three taken to a generic scientific lab, and the boy was probed. But Jeremy Ratchford was not a little boy, he was a green pointy eared Skrull. If that wasn't disturbing enough she was faced with Deadpools running commentary on the course of events. "Oh, cool. This is a definite improvement. Maybe it's a costume 'You two can be a Skrull- for just 3 easy payments of $19.95. It slices, it dices, and it's guaranteed to eat the neighbours. Available only in this TV offer." That was where Terry proceeded to hit him. It didn't make it stop. Finally the scientists remembered their existence. Zoe left the Skrull boy talking to her partner, the walking luggage. And she dumped Terry and Wade into a hotel room cell. "I think it was an administrative error. The boss has changed his mind about the two of you. I apologise for any inconvenience, but accidents happen. I'll send the two of you home in the morning- this unit needs to recharge. Oh, before I go do either of you know the whereabouts of a woman named Dazzler?'" "Last we heard she was the queen of Mojoverse. What de ye want wi' her? This some crazed attempt to turn everyone into a Skrull?" "Nothing much. Just a few tissue samples. It may have to be discarded if she is in the Mojoverse however. I'm sorry again about this." Deadpool, at the mention of the name Dazzler had begun singing the theme song to "Dazzler: The Movie". "Daz is my name, no one else is the same, Daz is my name. Dazzler!" This time both Zoe Culloden and Theresa hit him. The dream continued until Theresa awoke, whimpering from the horror. Only she was in the over crowded hotel room, using Jimmy as a pillow. Apparently she had woken him up as well. "Terry are you alright? You just started whimpering?" His voice evidenced his concern. "I just had what must be the most horrid dream. Zoe Culloden an' some walkin' luggage kidnapped me 'n Deadpool. An' that Ratchford boy turned into a Skrull. It was horrid. Then Deadpool started t' sing the Dazzler t'eme song. He was on the t'ird verse when I woke up." Theresa rushed the words out, as if saying them would make the nightmare disappear faster. "I hate to have to tell you this, but except for the luggage, it sounds just like what happened when you did get kidnapped, just before we decide to leave the mansion. In fact the whole affair was one of the reasons that you voted for leaving." "Don't be using the word affair Jimmy. I think I'm still trying to forget." ============================================== Next Issue: What's up with Terry and Deadpool? How hard can it be to rent a house? What does Val Cooper want? And why does it involve Kevin Bacon? Find out only in X-Force 52! -- *Marysia* |"Just love me, fear me, do as I say and I Keeper of the | will be your slave." Jareth, Labyrinth. 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