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FIC: X-Book 2 Shadows and Steel, PG-13, Chpt 19

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  • Kathleen
    Title: X-Book 2: Shadows and Steel - Chapter 19: Inner Warnings By: Kath713/Leen713 Rating: PG-13 (violence, language) Genre: Crossover, SPOILERS FOR X2
    Message 1 of 1 , Feb 4, 2004
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      Title: X-Book 2: Shadows and Steel - Chapter 19: Inner Warnings

      By: Kath713/Leen713

      Rating: PG-13 (violence, language)

      Genre: Crossover, SPOILERS FOR X2

      Summary: See Chpt 1

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

      ***

      Chapter Nineteen:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      ***

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

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

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

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

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

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

      ***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      "You're right…" she agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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