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GENERATION X vs. THE BLACK PACK Part Two: "In Love..." written by Multi-Facets and Z 0xxxx)>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>j>
This is in honor of all my E-pals: So close, yet so [censored] far.
PROLOGUE:
Inside a nearly-abandoned warehouse, a sphere of light opened and belched the seven young adults known as The Black Pack onto the floor. With assorted groans, they stood, carefully testing themselves for injury.
"After that skirmish, we oughtta call ourselves the 'Black and Blue Pack'," Zed Saunders/Wraith remarked, wincing as he prodded the large bruises on his shins.
Tawny Black/Sureshot snorted. "At least none of us are dead," she said pointedly. "Wounds heal, all right? Get over it." She grabbed the various sacks and dumped out the loot. "Take your cuts, Pack," she said, gesturing to the various works of art and other valuables, "and we'll send the rest to the black market."
"Then what, Boss?" Greg Craven/Thunder inquired, scooping up a Da Vinci painting.
Tawny rolled her eyes. "Duh, Thunder: I think of another place to hit."
End prologue.
The Massachusetts Academy
Paige slowly rose from a space-deep pit to consciousness. If this is Heaven, she thought groggily, it sure looks like the school's infirmary.
Thankfully, it wasn't Heaven: She was alive, and lying on a cot _in_ the school's infirmary. Paige could hear the steady beep-groan, beep-groan of the various apparatuses to which she was connected. A net of wires and electrodes covered her half-bare chest and she started at the sight of her naked skin, quickly pulling a soft white blanket up around her ears (effectively concealing the offending nudity). She tried her best to look around, to get her bearings, but her view was obscured by a combination of poor lighting and extremely blurred vision.
Abruptly the white curtain to her left shook briefly, and a familiar gray hand tugged the divider aside. "You finally up, chica?" Angelo questioned weakly.
"I think so," Paige replied, "but I don't wanna go to school today, mama," she added sweetly, with a hint of joking tone.
"If I'm your mama, you got worse things to worry about than that bump on your head," Angelo jibed.
Paige's eyebrows knitted together, and she lifted her free hand toward her forehand. A jolt of pain rocked her as she encountered the goose egg just below her hairline.
"Hurts like a bitch, huh?" Angelo questioned.
"Wh-what happened, Ange? How'd we get here? Where are the others?"
"So many questions. Bein' out for a coupla days really gets to you, don't it?"
"A couple of days!" Paige exclaimed in disbelief.
"Yeah! Near as I can figure, you been down for the count since Saturday," Angelo said, "but you really haven't missed much."
It was only then Paige noticed how weak her friend appeared. His brow was deeply furrowed from pain or worry (possibly both), and his distended skin hung loose over his neck and shoulders. Paige was mercilessly slapped back to reality as she remembered someone else who had been terribly wounded. "Ohmygod! Everett! Where's Everett?"
Skin slowly stood. Bare feet hit the linoleum with a light smack. He hiked up his pajama bottoms, wrestled briefly with the tie-string, and made his way slowly around Paige's bed, careful not to upset any of the many devices that were even now recording the health of her various body systems. He crept to the right of her bedside and slowly pulled back the curtain.
There, curled on one side in the fetal position in the center of a cot identical to the ones she and Skin had been recovering on, was Synch. His right shoulder was a mess of tape and gauze. Paige could see a pair of tiny brown spots winking at her as Everett's chest and shoulder rose and fell with each breath. The blood was faint now, and dried, but Paige could tell it was merely the after-math of what had to have been a wicked flesh wound.
"Dr. McCoy brought Wolverine in yesterday," Skin began to explain. "Ev was almost awake then, and Beast thought he could synch with Wolvy's powers and heal quicker."
"It didn't work?" Paige questioned.
"Nah. Worked like a charm, but Wolverine's healing factor doesn't work on the shock of bein' shot twice in the shoulder at close range."
"Is he okay?"
"Hell, I dunno. Beast seems to think it's some sort of 'post-traumatic' thing." "He's a lot better than he was earlier," Skin continued. "Ms. Frost's been coming in regularly and checkin' on him. Y'know, up here." Skin tapped one spidery finger to his temple.
"And you?" Paige asked.
"Me? Well, after my brush with laughing boy, I went a little loco. I was having trouble thinkin' clearly, speakin' . It was kinda scary. You, on the other hand -"
"Were in a catatonic state brought on by extreme mental fatigue," Monet said smugly as she approached.
"Leave off, M," Jubilee spouted as she and Chamber followed. "She's been through a lot. You don't haveta be so cold."
"So what happened to you guys?" Paige questioned. "Did you get out okay?"
*No,* Jono snorted. *My head is still hurting from that Sphinx guy's attack, and I can't even take an asprin.*
"I got a taste of what you and Ange had," Jubilee added, tugging at the collar of her v-neck. She pointed to a small area between her throat and collarbone that was a sickly yellow-gray color. It was like a bruise, but not quite. "That Wraith guy sure took the wind outta my sails. I was down, but not out."
"Yes, and you made such a valiant effort to dispose of your own teammates!" Monet crowed.
"Hey, that was an accident!" Jubilee whined.
"Enough, children." The cold voice of the White Queen drifted toward them, and she followed close behind it with Banshee and the Beast in tow.
"Let us suffice it to say," Sean said wearily, "that ye were all schooled by those hooligans, the Black Pack." He approached Skin and put a kind hand on the boy's shoulder.
Dr. McCoy made his way to Everett's bedside and began scrawling on a clipboard. "Ah, Ms. Guthrie," he said, turning towards her as soon as he was finished, "it seems as though you've thankfully returned to the realm of the living!" His fanged smile was an odd comfort. "It would appear that a combination of medical technology and psionic *ahem* tinkering, was more than enough to speed along your recovery."
"I don't know if I'd say that," Paige said uncomfortably. "Have I really been. out for two days?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Beast replied as he peeked through the tiny glasses situated on the end of his blue-furred snout. "By-the-by, how much of Saturday's events do you recall?"
"Not much," Paige answered woefully, "I was hoping everyone else could fill me in."
"Oh, that will not be a problem, Paige," Emma stated coldly. "We have the whole thing on tape!"
"You wouldn't be starting the party without me," a meek voice said from behind.
"EV!" Jubilee exclaimed, rushing to the boy and wrapping her arms around him in a great bear hug, "You're all right you're all right you're all right!"
"Shoulder! SHOULDER!" Ev yowled, trying to alert Jubilee to the monstrous pain she was causing his wound without destroying the moment.
"Oh," Jubee said apologetically, backing off. "Sorry."
Everett sat up, wincing. "'Sokay," he assured his friend, and turned his attention back to Emma. "What were you saying about seeing us on tape?"
"We caught the whole fight on live TV," Sean informed the team.
"Live?" Monet echoed slowly, the impact of the words hitting her.
"Aye. That means nearly all o' Boston saw ye take on the Black Pack," Sean said with a sigh.
"How humiliating!" Paige wailed in dismay. "Why didn't you do anything?" she snapped, directing the words at the Headmasters.
"We could not get there in time," Emma said sharply, reminding Paige of her place. The girl quieted while her teacher went on. "When we were able to get there, we saw the whole Pack vanish through a portal. One of them, a redhead, had the audacity to blow us a raspberry as she jumped through."
Jubilee couldn't help but laugh, though she quieted under a glare from Emma. "Sorry," she mumbled.
"I want to see the tape, Ms. Frost," Paige stated suddenly.
Emma lifted an eyebrow in surprise, chalked the request up to curiosity, and went to fetch the tape.
---------------------------
There was a sharp knock on the door.
"Who's there?" Zed questioned severely.
"Mail call, old man," a sarcastically sweet voice shot back.
"Tawny," Zed began, unfastening the door. "Sorry, honey, didn't know it was you."
"From that kind of greeting," Tawny remarked peevishly, "one would almost think you didn't want any company."
Zed snorted a laugh, and studied his leader to see her reaction. None seemed forthcoming, but he did notice how good she looked in her crop-top and well-worn jeans. She looked to him like a woman of 25 out for a Sunday drive, though the incongruent softness of her eyes reminded Zed of her true age. There was intensity in them, true, and drive, but there was also a zest . a lust for life that the world generally beats out of you before you ever see the near side of 21. That, at least, had been Zed's experience, and experience, he believed, was the key.
"This came for you," Tawny said, bringing him back to his senses. She reached outside the still-open door and dragged in a small, roughly coffin-shaped package. It was the ruddy brown color only the US Postal Service approves of. A color that seemed to whisper, no need to look in the box, ducky, it's just socks and undies. The color that allows most anything to be shipped through the continental United States without so much as a batted eyelash at the contents. Zed had used this to his advantage many times. Incendiary devices inside books rigged to ignite when opened, half-kilos of cocaine covered in cellophane and stuffed inside happy teddy bears, neatly presented photos of Mayor so-and-so doing God-knows-what with God-knows-who.... all sent wrapped in brown and postage paid to those unlucky enough to warrant such packages. The color took him back to a time he'd rather forget.
"Well, open it dumbass!" Tawny commanded impatiently. Her voice again brought him back from a dream.
With a shrug, Zed set the box on the floor, knelt and produced a small knife from his shorts' pocket, and set into the parcel's seam like a surgeon. In a flash the box lay gutted before them. From its bowels (amid the proliferous packing foam and Styrofoam peanuts) Zed drew out a shiny new guitar. Astounded, he drank in its deep, woody gloss. It even _smelled_ new, unplayed. Never in his life had the country boy dreamed of having such a prize. The binding surrounding its sound hole was a marriage of black and pearl, and the fret markers were so expertly spaced. On its headstock, the word Guild glowed like torchlight.
"Wh-where?" he choked. "I have my sources," Tawny replied with an "I know something you don't know" tone of voice. "Sphinx said you were slobbering over one like this last week at that guitar shop down the block. He helped pick it out."
"Why? Why did ya do this for me?"
"'Cause you deserve it," Tawny said smugly, proud of her own generosity. "In my crew, everybody gets a fair share, and when you do a little extra, you get a little extra. Like me: I lead the team, so I got myself a new Harley Z3-class motor-cycle. As for you, you totally kicked ass last weekend, and kept us from looking like fools in front of those cameras. Unlike certain other people," she added, craning her neck out the door and shouting, "-Thunder, I'm coming down to tear your head off, you gang-banging moron!" She breathed an exaggerated sigh and turned her attention back to Zed, produced another sly grin and wrapped her arms around her middle.
"Tawn. Thanks," Zed stammered, "it's, it's great, really, but I can't except it. It's way too extravagant for a fella like me, and besides-" Zed stopped cold when he realized his protests were doing no good.
"Kwitcher bitchin'," Tawny responded, her voice almost a bark. "Take your guitar, play it, and have a hillbilly good time. That's an order!"
Zed started forward, and before he realized what he was doing, his arms as well were wrapped around Sureshot's waist. The girl went rigid. She could not recall the last time someone had hugged her (hell, even her own dad had been too afraid to touch her once she hit puberty) and it was truly unexpected, and mildly terrifying. But thrilling.
Zed came to his senses fast and tried to break his hold, only to find that Tawny had somehow loosed her arms and entwined them around his shoulders. They stared into each other's eyes, lost for a moment.
As the two regained their composure, their grip loosened and then fell away all together. Another uncomfortable moment later they had again assumed their earlier positions; Zed in his shorts and bare feet, fiddling with his new gift, and Tawny leaning on the doorjamb
The Pack-leader broke the new silence. "Well, play me something."
"Come again?" Zed asked, puzzled.
"Duh! Play a song! I like Rob Zombie, JSYK."
"I can't."
"And why the eff not?" Tawny snapped, mildly hurt, regarding the other three guitars strewn throughout the room.
"Strings. I gotta change strings. These factory jobs are way too low-gauge. Lemme get a set o' those telephone lines out o' the desk and I'll do ya a song. Lady's choice."
Zed walked toward the far side of the room. Finally, he'd found a way to thaw the iciness of their uncomfortable conversation (and even more uncomfortable show of affection) and damned if he wasn't going to use it. As he trudged across the beige carpet, Tawny couldn't help but note his movements. He lumbered along with a slight limp, favoring his left leg. The bruises from their previous battle still stood out like sick medals of honor on his shins. She could tell they made walking painful, but she could also tell Wraith had seen many worse war-wounds than these. His exposed arms and shoulders were criss-crossed with narrow scars, mostly knife injuries from years past, she wagered. On either side of his A-shirt, Tawny could see the fluttering wings of birds inked into his flesh. She knew from previous views of the tattoo that the birds (one red, for luck, and one blue, for peace, she had overheard Wraith tell Sphinx while talking about body art early in their friendship) held in their tiny talons a banner that read "Nobody's hero, nobody's fool." Tawny had often wondered exactly what that meant, but upon spending more time with Wraith, it had become much more apparent.
"This is gonna take a while," Zed spoke, his back still turned to Tawny. "How 'bout ya go rip Greg a new one, and I'll play a bit when yer done."
"Sounds good t' me," she said, relieved and looking forward to chewing the greenhorn out.
------------------------------
Paige watched in horror as the bullets ripped through Synch's uniform and into the soft brown shoulder beneath with visible ease. Tears again began to well up in her eyes. They raced down her cheeks, leaving slick trails behind them as the camera zoomed in on the face of a fallen Jubilee.
CLICK.
The glaring light blurred Husk's vision much worse than the tears did. Her pupils struggled to constrict as the light rushed to meet them like a long-lost friend. She could make out the vague shapes of her teammates standing before her.
"You have gotta stop doing this to yourself, chica," Skin started. "You've been in here all afternoon watchin' and re-watchin' that tape, and it ain't done nothing but make you cry and make us loco."
Jubilee added, "Ya missed classes again today. All of them! That's not like you and besides, I need you to help me with my Bio homework, and you're, like, not even there to read the material."
"Glad to know I'm missed," Paige sniffled.
"Don't be like that, Paige," Synch chimed in, "you know that battle took a lot out of all of us, but we have to move on."
"Ah just. I just. just don't take defeat very well, I suppose."
*Few people do. C'mon, luv,* Jono said cajolingly, *it's not like it was a fair fight in the first place.*
"Not a fair fight!" she shrilled testily. "Come on! Their leader didn't even have any powers!"
"It makes a difference?" Angelo asked, perhaps a bit tactlessly.
"Oh thanks for bringing that up!" Synch bit out, insulted.
"And all those people," Paige griped, motioning toward the mass of frightened humans now being displayed on the television. "They could've been killed!"
"But they weren't, Paige," Monet said, speaking with what passed for compassion from her. "They survived and we survived, scarred but smarter."
The "buy one get one free" mute known as Penance crept slowly to the front of the group. She crawled carefully toward the couch, making sure as not to damage the floor with her diamond-hard nails. She looked at Paige with her normal blank expression, but Paige could tell she was doing her best to project comfort and concern.
"We were outgunned, outclassed, and out maneuvered," Skin interjected loudly, "and all we can do now is try to prepare to do better next time . er, that didn't sound right. Next time we can do better to.... No, we can train and hope to do better. we can try not to get our butts kicked so bad next time. Uh, I mean we can-"
"I think we all get the picture, Ange," Paige butted in, struggling to smile. She picked up the remote control from its resting place by her half-empty box of Kleenex and stopped the playback. "So what now?"
"Right now we have a practice session in the gym," Jubilee declared with a grin, "and you're invited."
Paige let a smile slip as Everett and Angelo helped her to her feet. "Hey, guys?" she murmured, drawing everyone's attention.
"What, Hayseed?" Jubilee asked.
"Thanks."
-------------------------------
The Black Pack board room was full once again as all the members waited for Tawny to start the meeting. To kill time, Flame/Sandra Henson was teasing Greg about the colorful bruise on his jaw. "Oh Thundy-wundy, how did you get that awful-awful boo-boo?" Sandra giggled, delighting in torturing the older man.
"He got a tongue-lashing," Jumper/Haley Mulroy quipped.
Sphinx/Leon Edenfox chortled loudly. "Nah, Sureshot just used him as a kick-boxing dummy," he joked.
"No way! The Boss-lady hit him with her second-best gun.... the best being too good to waste on him," Hotwire/Gloria Kelley improvised.
"Or maybe she just 'hit' on him," Wraith kidded.
"Oh, shut up," Greg grumbled.
"That was creative," Gloria retorted sarcastically.
"What else can you expect from our dear Greg?" Tawny sighed, walking into the room and taking her usual place. "However, Wraith was right: I punched Thunder after he had the nerve to talk back when I chewed him out." Snickers issued from the rest of the Pack. "Anyway, let's get busy. Jumper, you told me you'd have the total of the items sold on the black market by tonight."
"And I do," Haley said proudly. "Altogether, we made six million, five hundred sixty-two black dollars."
"Whoa!" Flame cried. "That's soooo phat!"
"It's nothing to scowl at," Tawny laughed, delighted, "but it's only the beginning."
"So whatta we do next?" Thunder questioned, doing his best to hide his embarrassment.
"Next we find out where those brats came from and do 'em in," Tawny touted. "We gotta make sure they won't mess with us again, and maybe get some loot from them. We just have to find them."
"I may be able to help out with that," Zed spoke, his eyes never leaving the half-full ashtray in front of him. Smoke careened heavenward from a dying butt.
"Oh? Do tell, Z-man, do tell," Sphinx prodded through a wide grin.
Wraith arose triumphantly. "Well, as y'all may recall, I spent a couple minutes inside the noggin of one of those X kids -Paige was her name, Paige Guthrie; Kentucky native, coal-miner's daughter, big, big family. brother's in the X-Men, but I digress. 'Pears these youngins are enrolled in a school called the Massachusetts Academy, which is basically just a front for the newest 'mutants in training' outfit of Charles 'cue-ball/mutant-about-town' Xavier."
At the very mention of the Academy, Hotwire had booted up her laptop. A simple query from within her "Local Maps" database yielded almost immediate results. She spun the computer around so the others could see its flat screen glaring beneath the neon lights. "The Massachusetts Academy, nestled in quaint Snow Valley," she informed them. "It's not on your standard roadmap, but not too hard to find if ya know where to look."
"Way to go, girl," Sureshot gloated. "Now find us a layout, all right?"
"Already on it," Gloria replied, fingers flying over the keys.
"So what does a school have that we'd want, anyway?" Thunder whined.
"Are you in there, Thundy?" Sandra griped. "Use your brain fer once!"
"This coming from the lady whose brain never left kindergarten," Greg sneered.
While the irate Flame attempted to force-feed Greg a fireball, Gloria took over the explanation. "The school would have lots of things we want," she said, "'cause it's supported by two of the richest mutants in North America."
"Uh, guys?" Jumper interjected. "Just one minor detail: Exactly when are we gonna hit the place?"
Tawny thought about it. "Tomorrow. There're things that need to be done today," she replied briskly. "Grocery shopping, HQ-cleaning, talents to be primed, stuff like that." She tossed a list onto the table. "There's the duty roster, kids. Get crack-" A loud crash interrupted Tawny's speech. "Christ! Will someone break up Sandra and Greg already? I don't wanna waste any bullets on 'em."
---------------------------
Jubilee stunk. She knew she stunk, and she planned to do something about it. After two hours of intensive training in Generation X's new holographic cyber-interactive gym facility, the funk of a hard workout was thick on all of them. Though Everett was forced to leave the session early due to light-headedness, he, Angelo, and Paige had done exceptionally well in the exercise. This alone put to rest many of the underlying fears that the team felt after their humiliating defeat at the hands of the Black Pack. They could still function as a cohesive unit, and that was its own reward.
As the last of the illusionary backdrop (which this time had been in the form of a stark, war-torn desert landscape) and the also half-real drone soldiers against which they had been fighting faded into nothingness, Jubilee noted that sweat was not all she could smell in the air. An unsettling aroma of fear and concern still hung heavy in the atmosphere. Though Jubilee lacked the telepathic abilities of Emma or Monet, she was quite perceptive when she wanted to be. Wolverine may have called it "smelling fear," but Jubes preferred to think of it as simply "understanding people"; how their minds worked, how they coped.
"That will be all fer t'day, children," Sean voiced through the loud-speaker. It was not the voice of the Banshee the team had come to love and respect as the resident father figure. While the rest of the team headed towards their rooms (and the comfort of a hot shower and a nap), Jubilation marched up the stairs to the control room. She reached the steel door just as Sean was letting himself out. "Oh," Sean said, slightly surprised to find the stone-faced girl standing behind him. "Hi Jubes. Can I help ye?"
"Yea. I wanna know why yer so zonked on us," Jubilee reported shortly.
Sean pulled on his collar uncomfortably. "Well . I'm a bit concerned about the team performance," he admitted. "I was thinking o' scheduling more intensive training sessions for tomorrow."
"Train them too hard and you wear them out, Cassidy," Emma remarked, also exiting the control room.
Sean glared at her. "I thought ye'd back me up on this, Em," he growled.
"Normally I would," Emma admitted. "But if we wear out the children now, who knows how they'll perform later?"
"But we've got tae be on a par with the Black Pack!" Sean protested. "I bet ye anything they're trainin' themselves to the limits right now!"
-----------------------
Uh, not exactly.
Zed awkwardly worked his key into the door of the HQ and fumbled with its great iron handle. It impressed him how little the exterior had changed despite the weeks of work that had gone into making the interior livable. The place provided perfect cover. He used one hip to bump the door open, grunting as he grazed a still-fresh bruise against the door frame.
Zed walked blindly left, his vision obscured by the six grocery bags held high in his hands, toward the recently completed kitchen. With its spotless range and great silver refrigerator, it cast a sharp contrast when coupled with the hulking, high-ceilinged training room to the right. Zed could hear music blaring from the farthest corner of the training area. He dropped the bags onto the marble countertop and lit a smoke. "Damned if I'm puttin' those groceries away," he said to no one but himself, and inhaled deeply. He ashed in the garbage disposal and made his way to the music, which he recognized as Rob Zombie's "Dragula".
Despite its size, the "rec room" was already becoming cluttered with various kinds of exercise equipment and other assorted sundries. Zed's glaring contribution (a wide-screen television of preposterous size) stared like a vacant eye from the area in front of Leon's weight bench. The bench lay in a mess of oil-colored light; it had recently been wiped down. Leon's punching bag also showed signs of recent use, and Zed noticed the small dimple already forming in the bag's tough center. "Huh. Sure glad he's on our side," Zed thought aloud, and turned his thoughts to other business. The music, he realized, most definitely coming from the showers. While each of the Pack members had his or her own bathroom in their private living quarters, some of the pipes in this ancient building had proven to be in less than workable shape. The facilities in both Zed and Leon's rooms were still not functioning, so the two had taken to using the training room showers when needed.
Zed dropped what was left of his cigarette in the ashtray on the pool table and walked again towards the source of the music. "Hey, bro," he yelled over the noise, his head poked through the swinging door of the lavatory, "you wouldn't wanna put up them eats for an old man, wouldja?" He expected Leon's booming voice to sound out in a sarcastic laugh, but there was no response save the music. "Dude," Zed started again, "can you even hear me?"
Again, the only response was the groove-heavy break-beats emanating from the larger-than-life CD player pushed in front of the second shower stall.
Zed rolled his eyes and moved over to the solitary urinal on his left; the door swished shut behind him. "Okay, bud," he stated, "I'm 'bout to take a leak, and you'd better pray the works down here ain't as shoddy as the ones upstairs, else you're gonna get a right good scalding when I flush this puppy."
A millisecond before Zed smacked the chromed handle, the shower's spray fell silent. He smirked. That lazy bas could hear me all along, he thought, he just didn't wanna put the groceries away. Zed side-stepped to the sink and washed his hands. In the foggy mirror, he saw a towel disappear over the stall door behind him. Zed ripped a wad of paper towels out of the dispenser and dried his hands, then yanked out another bunch and cleaned the moisture from the mirror. In his new, unhazy reflection he inspected the shiner below his right eye, another momento of their run-in with Gen X. Ouch.
It was more the movement than the shape of the object behind him that Zed noticed first. While Leon was tall and well-muscled, he was also a bit gangly, with long arms and legs. His quickness and the deep brown of his skin made Zed equate his movement with that of an early evening shadow. This was no shadow: The person behind him moved more like a lioness. A tornado of black and cream spun counter-clockwise in the mirror, wrapping its luxurious black hair in a towel with one swift movement. It was the eyes that caught Zed off guard: those huge, seemingly overflowing vessels of violet beneath long, crowning lashes. It was the eyes that let Zed know, not the pouty lips or the proud, up-turned breasts or the sleek, muscular thighs, but the eyes. Zed spun around as well. "Sunnovabitch...." slipped his lips as his nails dug into the porcelain sink against his back.
Tawny voiced a low, surprised screech before jumping back into the shower stall. In doing so, she kicked the CD player. The room fell silent as the machine was forcefully unplugged from the wall. The silence was followed by an exasperated snarl of "Wraith, you coke-snorting hick! Don't you know how to damn well knock?"
"Oh-Chris'-Jesus," Zed stuttered, feeling a slick fire plunge through his veins. "Well, uh, well yeah, but.... I-I didn't know it was you, Boss. I thought it was Le-"
"Yea, I know," Tawny butted in, her upper-Bronx accent showing. "Leon went out with the others for a bite. Haley and I stayed for some exercise, but it screws up the water pressure for both of us to shower at the same time -our rooms are side-by-side, remember?- I just chose to, y'know...." Tawny strained as she reached for a towel lying askew on the wooden bench a few feet beyond her reach.
"To use the stall down here," Zed finished as he bolted to deliver the towel she so desperately desired. "Here you go," he added, the heat finally dissipating from his cheeks as he handed her the crumpled cotton cloth.
They stood there, eyes locked and hands entwined in the towel for a small eternity. Tawny half-expected his eyes to drop to her naked body behind the door, but they never did.
Zed finally turned away and replaced the CD player's plug back into the socket, as if that would undo what just happened. "I got some groceries I gotta put away," he screamed over the music, pointing frantically towards the door.
In a flash, he had disappeared, nothing remaining of his accidental visit save the absently swinging door and a fuzzy feeling in Tawny's bare belly and toes.
In the rec room, Zed checked quickly to make sure his fly was zipped. When he found it was, he breathed a sigh of relief and fumbled for another ciggy. Upon fruitlessly checking all his pockets, he charged back to the kitchen. There he found his half-empty pack sitting on the counter and Haley neatly tucking away the food he had bought. He produced a cigarette from the pack and struck a match on his thumb. Haley noticed, smiled sweetly and spoke up. "You're looking pretty rough, bud," she teased. "Those cancer sticks getting to you after all these years?"
"Nobody likes a wise-ass, Mulroy," Zed responded shortly.
"Oh, bite me," Haley retorted.
Zed laughed. "Anytime," he chirped, and blew her a kiss before stomping up the noisy stairs to his room.
-------------------------
"It was agreed upon by us both, Sean," Emma protested. "If we go back on it now, they'll lose what little respect still remains for us."
Sean only stared blankly into her sparkling eyes.
"I don't like it any more than you do, Irish, but if we're to be taken seriously, we must mean what we say and say what we mean."
Sean shifted his gaze from Emma to the floor.
"We said. you said if they completed their mid-afternoon training exercises that they could have tomorrow free. Is that true?"
"Aye," Banshee nodded.
"And is it also true that the children not only completed their exercises, but did so without so much as a single protest?"
"Aye."
"Tell me the truth, Sean, does this 'mother bird' syndrome have anything to Theresa's accident?" (Note: She lost her voice when Feral slit her throat.)
Sean winced. "Aye, right again, Em. And ye actually got that without so much as a wee peak into me psyche, did ye now?"
The White Queen was not amused.
"I'm sorry, Emma," Sean began, shaking his head, "I didnae mean tae bare me claws at ye like that. Ye're right. ye're very right. Ever since Theresa lost her powers in that battle, I. I've been so worried about our young charges. I mean, sadly, I've spent more real time watchin' them grow up than I did me own daughter. If anythin' was to happen to any of them due in any small part to the fact that I hadn't done my part to train them I'd. "
"You're not the only one who's afraid of failing the children, Sean. I've been down that road before." Emma's chest pulled hard as she held back the feelings that rushed forward at even the merest thought of her fallen Hellions.
"I s'pose ye're right, Em. What harm could one day off do? By-the-by, what manner of extracurricular activity have they opted for?"
"They're planning to take in a movie. and we're invited."
"Oh, ye Saints."
---------------------------------
The next day.
"Are you sure you're not coming, Mr. C?" questioned Synch.
"Aye, Everett," Sean responded kindly, "There's a spot o' work that needs to be done this evenin', and since Emma's decided to go off gallivanting with you kids, someone has to stay here and attend to it."
Emma scowled at Sean from the driver's seat of the familiar van. She had nothing against the children, as a matter of fact she regarded them with a kind of almost-maternal love, but she felt absolutely no joy when she stared down the prospect of spending an entire evening as their sole source of adult supervision. She had been too quick to accommodate when they had invited her and Sean to accompany them, not taking into consideration the fact that the sly headmaster was a virtual Houdini when it came to escaping awkward or unpleasant situations.
My, my, Emma, she thought, is it any wonder Frost Enterprises is slipping?
"All aboard, vatos," Angelo called, "the train is leaving the station in four minutes, and this time I'm not getting stuck back there in no-man's land." He walked to the far side of the van and slid open the door. The faces of his friends regarded him from the bench seats.
"Ah hah!" he exclaimed, "guess daddy's getting' shotgun this time!"
He darted towards the front door only to be cut off by Everett.
"Sorry, bro," Everett said apologetically. "You snooze, you lose."
"Dammit," Skin said under his breath. "Foiled again."
*Don't sweat it, Ange,* Jono said, passing his left. *'Least you'll have company.*
The two boys lifted the back door and piled into the shallow seating area.
As the van pulled away, Sean waved merrily. It reminded him of some sappy scene from a television drama. The approach of the razor-skinned Penance shattered that illusion, thankfully. She cocked her head to one side and gazed blankly at Sean's waving hand. This sight troubled Banshee. "I didnae much want to tag along with the others, but ye did, didn't ye, li'l one?" Penance responded with another vacant look. "I s'pose recreation is a bit of a problem for you, isn't it Penny?"
The silence spoke volumes.
"I'm feelin' a bit peckish; would ye care for a snack?"
Sean bowed grandly, extending his hand toward the entrance. As he turned on his heel, the voiceless Penance followed him inside.
From the shadows, seven pairs of hungry eyes ate up the scene. The front door thudded behind Penance, verifying they had remained undetected. "Okay girl: Hotwire the security," a low voice ordered. "The Black Pack is go!"
-----------------------------
By the time the great "what to listen to on the radio" debate had come to a fruitless close (cut short, as it were, by a nasty threat from Emma) the van had come to a stop in a vacant space outside the multiplex. "All right, children," she said, getting out of the van. "Can we reach some agreement on what to see tonight?"
"Let's see 'Mystery Men'," Everett suggested. "I heard it's really funny."
"One prob with that, Ev: Jono and I wanna see 'American Pie'," Angelo interjected.
"But Paige and I wanna see 'The 13th Warrior'," Jubilee complained.
"Why not go with something that has a little more class?" Monet asked pointedly.
*Such as?* Jono inquired.
Monet shrugged. "'The General's Daughter', perhaps."
A very predictable argument broke out. Emma counted backwards from ten in an attempt to keep her cool, so to speak, but in the end lost her patience. *ENOUGH!*
The kids reeled, stunned. "Thank you," Emma said in her physical voice. "Since none of those movies play at the same time, and I have no wish to wait around for all of you, I hope we can agree on 'Mickey Blue Eyes'?"
The kids looked at each other and shrugged philosophically. "Sounds good to us," Paige responded for all of them.
"Good. Afterwards, we'll go out for dinner and run some errands while we're at it. Agreed?" Emma inquired. Nods and affirmative murmurs were her reply. Emma smiled in satisfaction and led the kids into the multiplex.
-----------------------------
"Can't your damn laptop go any faster?" Thunder growled to Hotwire.
Hotwire snorted. "There-there, little one." She coddled and patted her computer on its heavily-stickered frame. "Don't you listen to that mean, mean man. You're doin' just fine."
Thunder rolled his eyes. "I was just sayin-"
Hotwire's grimace cut him off in mid thought. "It's going as fast as it can," she hissed. "You try hacking a security system that's been encrypted twelve times!"
"Someone's got a secret," Flame sang.
"Wouldn't you if you were mutants-in-training?" Wraith questioned.
"Ah-hah!" Hotwire cried suddenly. "We're in!"
Sphinx reached out and cautiously pushed the gates open. Nothing happened. "Great. Let's go," he whispered, and the Pack filed in.
"We need to split up," Sureshot explained once they were inside. "'Wire, you're with me, and we check the cottages and main halls. Thunder, Flame and Jumper, you two search the boys' dorms. Wraith and Sphinx, you hit the girls' place. We meet back here the instant we're finished, and not a second later. Everyone got their comms and night-goggles?"
Affirmative nods, except for Wraith. "Uh, Boss, I think someone snaked my goggs," he told her sheepishly.
Tawny gave him a blank stare. "Excuse me?"
"Stewardess, I speak jive," Sphinx said with a grin.
"Get to the point, Leon," Tawny snapped.
"He thinks someone took his goggles," Sphinx translated.
"Either that or I left 'em at the warehouse," Wraith added. "I had to make a pit-stop before we left, and you know what it's like when ya gotta take a leak and yer wearin' body armor. Ya gotta take everything off and then-"
"For Chrissakes, spare me the details!" Sureshot growled, ripping off hers and thrusting them at Zed. "Take mine. Now hit it!" she ordered, and took off at a run, Hotwire close behind. Within minutes, the whole Pack was gone.
INSIDE:
It was late when Sean finally tucked Penance in and went to his own cottage to relax. He was looking forward to a nice book in front of a fire.
The instant the door was open, however, that plan vanished. Sean could hear minute thumps coming from his den. Frowning, Sean carefully felt his way to the den, straining his hearing for more clues.
"This guy must have state-of-the-art security in here," a female voice grumbled.
"But you can crack it, right?" another girl asked impatiently.
"Just hang on! Wait; I think I got it."
POP!
"Yeessss!"
Sean could hear them poking around in his fire-proof safe. It was where he kept precious documents and the few heirlooms he cared most about. No doubt those heirlooms would fetch a pretty price on the black market. He wasn't about to let to let those thieves take them!
Sean sharply turned the corner and flipped on the light. "Ow! Dammit, that's bright!" one of the girls yelled. The other threw her night-goggles across the room with room with a loud curse.
"Hold it," Sean ordered sternly.
Slowly, the two girls turned around. One wore a smug, squinty smirk, and the other was rubbing her eyes as she held a small computer. Sean recognized them as Hotwire and Sureshot. He lifted a hand in warning. "Stay right there, or I'll-"
"You'll what?" Hotwire spat. "Yell at us?"
Sean smiled wickedly. "Exactly," he replied.
"Can you yell before I give you a breathing hole in your neck?" Sureshot taunted, hand hovering above her hip holster.
Sean was taken aback. But he inhaled and opened his mouth just as Sureshot whipped out her gun.
Banshee screamed.
Sureshot fired.
"EEEEEEEEEE-"
BOOM!
Sean hit the floor, gagging for air. "Way to go Boss!" Hotwire cheered, quickly retrieving her goggles.
"Not bad for a blind shot, huh?" Sureshot gloated, reaching into the safe and drawing out the small box that held the heirlooms. "Let's go, 'Wire," she commanded.
The two young women dashed from the room and charged out of the house. Once they were gone, Sean sat up, coughing and rubbing his bruised throat. "Cutting it a wee bit close, eh Sean?" he muttered, and dumped the bullet from his hand onto the floor. OUTSIDE:
Sureshot tapped her comm. "Sphinx, how's your group doing?" she questioned.
"Not bad," Leon answered. "We found a lot of things of worth. Statues, paintings, ornaments, and a few other objects."
Sureshot smiled. "Good. Over and out," she said, and paged Flame. "Flame, how's your end of the robbery?"
"Oh, we found lots of pretties-"
"Valuable 'pretties'?" Sureshot interrupted.
"Oh yea! Anyway, they were in a girl's room, and there're lotsa other things in the halls and stuff," Flame reported, giggling.
"Excellent," Sureshot stated, and clicked out. "C'mon, 'Wire. Let's go to the gates."
Flame, Thunder and Jumper were waiting for them when the two got there. "Where are the others?" Jumper wanted to know.
"Still looting," Hotwire replied.
"Not any more," Sphinx called from the blackness, coming into view with Wraith close behind.
Sureshot grinned widely. "Perfect," she crowed. "This was a better haul than I thought it would b-"
There was a roar of an engine and the squeal of rubber. Headlights illuminated the Pack, blinding them.
Generation X had come home.
Sureshot cursed loudly and creatively. "Jumper, get us out of here!" she yelled. Jumper reacted instantly, teleporting them off the grounds in a bursting BOOM of light.
--------------------------
Sean's psychic cry had forcefully smacked Emma in the center of the forehead, but now it was only a memory. Anything that could shake up the Banshee so much as to have him cry out across the astral plane with such intensity most certainly was bad news.
Bad news in the form of new enemies calling themselves the Black Pack, Emma realized as the shapes of seven near-strangers darted through a glimmering hole in space. Somehow she was not surprised. The fire in the eyes of the young people as they taunted the world on live television only days earlier had reminded Emma of her own misspent youth. These children were out for blood, out for a taste of satisfaction from a world that had no doubt sold them out.
Everett had bowed up in the seat beside her. Like a cobra, he was poised to spring into attack at any moment. Emma glimpsed in the rearview mirror. Much to her satisfaction the rest of the team had also assumed the ready position. Jubilee was the first to speak.
"Was that who I think it was?" she questioned.
"I'm afraid so," Emma answered flatly.
"So what now?" Paige chimed in. "What were they doing here?"
"And where's Mr. C?" Skin added.
"He's in his cottage," Emma answered without much hesitation. "Half-conscious, but still very much alive."
"And what of my sisters?" Monet inquired with a bit too much concern in her voice for anyone's liking.
"I cannot pinpoint her."
*So we've got a missing Penance, a headmaster who's down for the count, and a group of supervillians fleeing the scene of the crime,* Jono complained. *I'd say that's a bloody hell of way to end yer day.*
"Agreed, Jonothon," Emma continued, "but we have more pressing matters to attend to right now. Our security's been breached without so much as a single alarm, and that means that our livelihood and your very identities may have been compromised. Now, everyone inside. We need a full damage report."
The van screamed to an abrupt halt. The doors flew open in unison and seven shadowed shapes scattered towards their quarters. An instant after they had disappeared behind the oaken doors of their lodgings, a very confused Penance emerged stealthily from a collection of decorative shrubbery. After the night air was again still, she lumbered across the yard to the very spot from which the Black Pack had vanished only moments earlier. She sniffed at the darkness and waved her clawed hands frantically, as if swatting insects or trying to strike an enemy. After realizing the fruitlessness of such an attack, Penance, too, shambled towards her abode.
Again the atmosphere fell silent. until it was splintered by a earsplitting scream.
TO BE CONCLUDED IN GENERATION X vs. THE BLACK PACK part three: "And War."
