Trick or Treat (1 of 1)(PG-13)(Mystique, Toad, Sabretooth)(movieverse)
- ***Trick or Treat, by Alex SisterWolf. Rated PG-13 for violence and general
mayhem. Written in response to the Halloween challenge. All recognizable
characters belong to Marvel Comics and no copyright infringement is intended.
Archive story with permission. Send feedback to Alexsisterwolf@....
Pretty please, with sugar on top, darlin'.***
Halloween, 2000: a nondescript van cruised down I-95 outside of Washington.
Anyone glancing at the driver of the vehicle would have seen a rather
average-looking man of indeterminate age, casually dressed, perfectly
That was how Mystique liked it.
"Vic ate all the candy corn," Toad complained.
"Did not." Victor Creed, Sabretooth to his enemies, glared at his smaller,
green-skinned comrade-in-arms, growling softly.
Mortimer Toynbee, otherwise known as Toad, stuck out his tongue, crossing his
eyes. The effect was rather startling, considering Mortimer's rather well
"Would you two overgrown babies do me a favor and shove it!" Mystique
demanded irritably from the front of the van.
Mort and Vic scowled, but stopped sniping at each other. The last time
they'd pushed Mystique too far, she'd kicked both of them in the face while
the van was still going eighty down a crowded highway. She didn't seem to be
concerned that they'd swerved across two lanes of traffic and barely missed
being crushed by a semi. They'd both realized that day that it was a bad
idea to piss Mystique off when she was driving.
"Where are we going, anyway?" Mort asked after a while.
"I told you. We're going trick-or-treating," Mystique answered.
"Oh, come on, Mystique, you can't be serious. We've got other problems to
take care of. You remember, our fearless leader? Master of magnetism?
Currently in prison?"
"This is serious business." She grinned into the rearview mirror.
"And can't you at least take a female form? It's just too bloody bizarre to
see you walk into the men's loo."
Vic, who had been pondering something deeply for the last few minutes,
interrupted their bickering. "I went trick-or-treating once."
Mort looked at him. "Go on, try another sentence or two. It's fun!"
Vic growled, sensing the sarcasm but not really understanding it. "I wanted
candy. I knocked on their door and said 'Trick or treat!' Just like yer
supposed to. It was a little family. A mother, a father, and two children.
I just wanted candy. But they looked at me and got all scared. And then the
father grabbed a shotgun."
Vic stopped, apparently done with his story.
Mort waited, drumming his heel absently on the floor. A full thirty seconds
passed before Mort demanded, "And then what? There had better be a point to
"And then I killed them all. I broke the shotgun, then I ripped the children
into little pieces, and then I killed the father. But I saved the mother for
Mystique, smoothly exiting the freeway, said, "Ah, Vic, we can always count
on your for a fun story."
"Yeah, great," Mort agreed sourly. "Hey, why the hell are we in the fucking
Mystique smiled. "You'll see."
A few minutes later, the van pulled into the driveway of a large house in a
luxurious subdivision. Cheerful Halloween decorations leered from the front
Mystique turned off the engine and shifted back into her natural form, a
blue-skinned, scaly woman.
Mort eyed her appreciatively. "That's more like it!"
She eyed him like a repulsive bug she was considering squishing. "Everybody
out of the car."
Vic was first out of the van, stretching to his full height of seven feet
with a relieved sigh. Mort followed him, hunching over slightly, feeling
entirely too exposed in this place of well-clipped lawns and wide boulevards.
Mystique followed last, a strange smile of anticipation on her face.
"So what's the plan? We just ring the doorbell and say trick or treat?" Mort
"That's the plan," Mystique answered calmly, starting for the door.
Vic muttered to himself, "Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something
good to eat "
Mort shrugged and followed Mystique to the door. She rang the doorbell and
After a few minutes, a woman with beautifully-coiffed blonde hair answered
the door and said, "May I help you?" She looked doubtfully from the
nearly-naked blue woman, to the scruffy greenish guy, to the enormous blonde
man in a ragged fur coat.
"I think you can," answered Mystique cheerfully. "Are you Luella Brigham?"
"Yes. We don't allow solicitors in this neighborhood," she said primly.
"Actually, we're here to inquire about a donation you and your husband have
already made. To Senator Kelly's organization?"
"I really must ask you to leave."
"In the amount of twenty thousand dollars?"
"How did you know " Her eyes widened and she tried to shove the door closed.
Mystique smiled and kicked the woman into her marble-tiled entryway. "Trick
or treat," she said cheerfully, beckoning Mort and Vic inside.
The morning papers carried the tragic story of the Brigham family, solid,
upstanding citizens, found dead in their burning home on Halloween night.
Authorities suspected arson, but no solid leads had been found.
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