Brotherhood Beatdown II: Bobby/Laurie

[Sherridan Kaine]

Alright, so this is not working too badly, now is it? At least, they have not figured out that he is a mutant, and if they did, he seriously doubts that they would recognize him as part of the Brotherhood. The only two people who ever actually saw him (not counting the investigation of Magneto's death, where he was wearing a mask, and a different kind of fur) are the little time-stopper kid, the depth of whose look he cannot estimate, and some random mutant he saw when Magneto was paying his respects to the late Charles Xavier. The girl, he is absolutely certain, has never even heard of him, and he is not so sure about the "Iceman".

Being referred to as a bigot oddly does not flare even the slightest bit of anger- the boy is entitled to his views, and Sherridan is not about to get bent out of shape because someone does not think highly of him.

The rest of the replies, where Robert gives him a short recap of all his adventures is only barely paid attention to within Sherridan's mind, as he drifts off to a memory of a specific fifteenth birthday.

He had just gotten out of the shower, and his whole body was very soft and fluffy thanks to the, now white, fur. His parents were about to come home from work, and it would be the first time he had seen them that day- he had to leave for school early, and they had to get to work only after ten, so there was no need to wake them up. The babysitter, who was actually more of a maid now that Sherridan was capable of taking care of himself, walked in and ruffled his hair, to which he objected only slightly, laughing a bit. He was happy. A few hours later, his parents were rested, and now talking to him in the large living room. "Hey, mom, dad, when I grow up, do you think I could be a hero? I mean...use my mutation to help the cause you two are fighting for?" and the parents laugh. His mother speaks first. "If you wish to, honey, sure. Helping people is really wonderful. It is like a certain warm ball just starts growing inside of you when you see you're helping someone, even if it is just making their day a little better through conversation..."

He looks back at Robert, confused a bit as to why exactly this memory has decided to resurface.

>"Anyway... thanks for the use of your phone, and for stopping. It’s nice to be reminded that not everybody out there is one of those assholes."

He nods slowly, and wonders why does it feel relatively good to get that compliment. The boy is supposed to be his enemy. And really, he is still furious with humans. But, come to think of it, he joined Magneto because he respected him, and the man held a similar hatred towards humanity. Sherridan, however, never really had any aspirations towards fighting mutants. He does not hold a grudge against Robert or the girl, or any of the X-men really. They just seem to get in the way a lot.

He shakes his head to his own thoughts, and sees Bobby taking a position on the driver's seat.

> “I’m, um, well, I can’t really tell you my name, but they call me Iceman… I know, not terribly original, but I didn’t come up with it. Anyway… nice meeting you."

He nods slowly. "Yeah...a pleasure." he says absently, and then raises a questioning glance at the girl, before looking back towards the car. "I don't think you're anywhere near being fit to drive. Perhaps you should just wait?"

[Laurie Collins]

Laurie looks back and forth between the two as they talk amicably and calmly like there’s never been a better time for a chat, but keeps quiet herself, swaying a little in place and wrapping her arms around her stomach. She’s caught between shame- because Bob was just beaten within an inch of shattering all over the alley-way and he’s calm and composed while she, completely uninjured, is struggling to keep herself from crying or otherwise losing her composure- and unabashed fear because he’s here for certain and could be back at any moment and there’s nothing she can do, nothing at all… just keep your pheromones in check, that’s what you should worry about right now, staying in control and not making things worse.

"Anyway... thanks for the use of your phone, and for stopping. It’s nice to be reminded that not everybody out there is one of those assholes. I’m, um, well, I can’t really tell you my name, but they call me Iceman… I know, not terribly original, but I didn’t come up with it. Anyway… nice meeting you."

She jerks back to attention and realizes both that she’s still holding the man’s cell phone and that Bob has reached the car. I should have learned to drive. I should have taken my permit test in June as soon as I could… it’s obviously silly to berate herself for not foreseeing that she would need to drive Bob away from a mutant terrorist attack but she’s so full of the guilt-fear-anger cocktail that accompanied the earlier revelation that those feelings are latching on to every little thought and observation and twisting them. That passes through her mind in the moment it takes for her to step towards Sherridan and hold out his phone to him. “Yes, um, thank you very much.” she echoes Bob quietly, turning to join him by the car but stopping as the man’s voice rings out again.

"I don't think you're anywhere near being fit to drive. Perhaps you should just wait?"

Odd, didn’t he want us to leave before? she thinks absently, without any real suspicion. She’s distracted and jumpy and just wants to get out of here before he comes back but…what if this guy is right? Bob’s managed not to damage himself any more and seems pretty composed but what if that’s just for show? She turns back towards the car and tilts her head slightly to nonverbally echo the question.

[Bobby Drake]

> " I don't think you're anywhere near being fit to drive. Perhaps you should just wait?"

Bobby isn’t at all sure how to respond to that.

He really doesn’t want to let this guy drop him off at the Institute: the Institute/mutant/X-Men relationship may be the worst-kept secret ever, but it’s still a secret, and he’s not supposed to let strangers in on it, however friendly and harmless they may be. And having him drop them off anywhere else is silly… whoever Laurie talked to on the phone is already on their way here, he supposes.

On the other hand, he really isn’t sure he’s fit to drive. He can’t seem to move his right leg at all, and his left leg is threatening to shear off altogether. On the third hand, staying in this parking lot where he was just attacked by the Brotherhood isn’t the world’s cleverest idea, either... especially since he has no idea why they attacked him, or why they fled like that. (He supposes Laurie’s pheromones had something to do with the latter, but how long is that likely to last?)

And, of course, Laurie’s looking to him for a decision here… and judging from the particular flavor of twitchy she’s being, he suspects she’s worried about something specific that she hasn’t yet mentioned. And he really doesn’t want her caught in the middle if there’s a second attack – let alone what happens to this poor guy who just stopped to help out.

Ultimately, he decides his best plan is to stay put, but hedge his bets a little. Being in his car is better than lying out in the middle of the parking lot, no matter what happens – at least this way he doesn’t obviously look like a mutant to passers-by. Best-case, they continue their little chat until the Institute picks them up, which shouldn’t take too much longer… but if anything goes wrong before then, at least he’s primed for a quick getaway. That is, assuming his leg doesn’t fall off when he tries to use the accelerator.

"Yeah… so, what do you call a quadriplegic in the driver’s seat of a car?" He doesn’t have a punch-line handy, but after a second he adds "A crash test dummy, maybe? Sorry, I know, horrible. I’ve never been much good with the witty banter in crisis situations. Anyway, yeah, you’re right… my rescuers should be here any minute, better to wait for them."

He looks over at Laurie and grins, adding: "My second rescuers, I should say. Already been rescued once tonight. I’d swoon at your feet and cry ‘My hero’ like some romance-novel damsel in distress, except I’m not sure I’d get back up again. Especially once M—once your boyfriend found out." His attempt at a grin is unrecognizable, given the state of his face, and the playful tone in his voice is obviously just there for show… but, on the plus side, his voice itself seems to have normalized.

[Pyro]

John’s not entirely sure what possessed him to take a shift on the x-Phone… beyond that it beats whatever-the-fuck is going on with Rogue in the wake of their spectacularly un-spectacular break-up, at least. But whatever; Sheppard hadn’t exactly put up much of a protest when it came to dumping his responsibilities on someone else (yeah, major surprise, that) and his ‘Inner Sanctum’ (it’s odd, but at some point this stopped being Xavier’s office… probably something to do with the ever-increasing army of action figures, or the rapidly decreasing level of organisation) benefits from the best connection in the entire building, one hell of a chair (… okay, he couldn’t resist spinning it; not like anyone saw) and minimal thoroughfare. Perfect for avoiding people *studying* (it’s unclear what curriculum the Laymon anthology would ever feature on – Freaky Alien Genitalia 101? – but it’s a book, with words in, and only marginally stranger than the shit Hank was throwing at them in that Yellow Zone fiasco, so it sort-of counts…). And it can’t hurt to show some sort of willing, really – maybe if he keeps it up they might actually let him graduate while he’s still young enough to do something other than get stuck here teaching the next generation how to avoid fucking up quite as spectacularly as this one has. Okay, there are the calls to deal with, but for the most part it’s a series of non-events – Josh and Warren haven’t yet suffocated in smothering schmoop while on honeymoon, the next batch of parts for Cerebro-the-second have been delayed again, bla bla bla… yawn.

Then Laurie’s call comes in. The fact that it’s on the other phone – the *special* phone (i.e. the one that only ever rings when something’s gone wrong) – should be enough to indicate that this is something different, but her breathless babble (frantic even for her; seriously, the girl seems to have evolved beyond breathing, even normal conversation conducted at a pace that hyper kid who can’t help stalking Logan would envy) leave sno doubt that something’s seriously up, even if she’s said it all and hung up before he can work out exactly what that might be beyond that she and Bob are in some sort of trouble.

***
So now what?

… that’s not even a question, is it? Okay, so he’s disregarding a whole shitload of protocol – not getting anyone else to take over (hey, if today’s the day 60ft zombie Magneto clones decide to take over, he’s gambling on someone noticing before it’s phoned in…), not taking the time to change into full uniform (just sticking his jacket on as he races to the garage, but that’s just stupid PR nonsense, right?). He’s not supposed to be running missions at all, really, is he, team status and all that still being a rather fuzzy grey area? But this is just a simple collect-and-return run, nothing he can’t handle…

And now what? You race on in, knight in shining pick-up, and Bob swoons like the heroine in some cheap novel and it’s all back like it was? Get fucking real…

No, fuck off. It’s not about that. It’s just what needs to be done, that’s all. What X-Men do. Same as he’d do for any other member of the team.

Yeah, right…

***
A couple of minutes of more than likely highly illegal ‘creative’ driving later, he’s fairly sure he’s in the right place; Laurie mentioned something about a book signing, he thinks, and sure enough there’s something going on inside there – though it feels much more like some bizarre evangelical sect, the fire-and-brimstone paintings of old meant to teach the illiterate their Bible 101 replaced by photographs from the Times Square riot, the passion plays reworked as Grayson’s demented rambling about the End of Humanity, the crowd in their raptures lapping up every word. Oh, fuck, now what? Not like he can stroll on in and ask whether anyone’s seen a moving ice-sculpture and a mousey pheromone-emitter. You have? Great. Mind pointing me in the right direction so I can take them back to the secret mutant school? I’ll autograph your copy while I’m at it – that’s me in the background. Brilliant fucking plan, I think not…

It’s a sad state of affairs, now that pulling up in the car park and re-evaluating things seems to be the best course of action. Chalk this one up as yet another epic failure… – which would be a lot easier if it wasn’t for the fact Bob their people are still out there. Thankfully the Fates seem to be showing him a little more pity than usual, because… isn’t that Bob’s car?

***
Like he said, it should be a simple collect-and-return.

Though, having thrown him that ace… of course it’s not going to be that easy. Fate does so like to fuck him over, after all.

First off, there’s the guy with them – there’s something familiar about him. The bad sort of familiar. Not, really, that that’s cause for concern in itself – John’s hardly lacking in unsavoury connections from various past lives – but this is the sort of familiar that, frustratingly, refuses to throw up any definite identity, just sits and niggles and pokes and prods, like when you’re trying to remember some piece of trivia, with the added complication that pub quiz answers don’t usually have terrorist friends or the ability to kill you in some interesting and incredibly painful way using their strange-and-wonderful mutant powers. He manages to keep that hesitancy out of his tone – mostly – as he jumps out of the car, gives the mystery man a curt nod and says ”We’ll take it from here” (he’s also proud that he doesn’t cringe, because that sounds so fucking lame, especially when he's alone… but feels like the sort of thing that’s done… and having a script, even a lame and quickly hashed-out one, helps), but the prodding is still there as he crosses over to the other vehicle, flashing Laurie an attempt at a reassuring grin. ”You okay, Mou-Wallflower?” (codenames. Right. Official business, after all).

The second problem? Bob.”Holy fuck, Icicle.” John gulps, taking in the damage; if it wasn’t for the whole ‘man of ice’ thing, he’d be hard pressed to recognise Bob, given that half his fucking head is missing. ”You look like death warmed up. Told you they shouldn’t let you out alone.”

Sherridan: Working on the assumption that John doesn’t instantly recognise Sherridan without fur, in the dark, when he’s concentrating on Bob and Laurie. Feel free to take the old-school BH reunion where you want, or not, as you want, ‘kay?[/color]

[Bobby Drake]

Bobby can’t quite decide whether the ongoing social chitchat with this complete stranger while in the middle of an “is-there-a-color-worse-than-red?” crisis is about to drive him crazy, or is the only thing keeping him sane.

Either way, he is mostly having the conversation on autopilot, his attention chaotically split between scanning his surroundings for another Brotherhood attack, waiting for some Friend of Humanity to notice him and spark a riot, desperately looking around for the Institute rescue team while trying not to look desperate, and trying to find a way to stitch his broken body back together while simultaneously trying to avoid thinking about how broken it is… he does little more than nod agreeably and make the occasional incoherent rambling semi-joke, really.

He’s aware of a van making a highly illegal U-turn and careening into the parking lot, but his remaining eye doesn’t quite seem to be cooperating about focusing on anything more than a few meters away. So when he hears John’s voice -- " We’ll take it from here " – he’s utterly blown away.

He tells himself his nonexistent heart would be leaping around like this in his nonexistent rib-cage no matter who it was, and that there’s nothing weird about John being the one to rescue him (again). He tells himself that a few more times as John comes over to their car, says something Bobby doesn’t even pay attention to to Laurie and the friendly stranger, and looks him over with what really does look like genuine concern.

> " Holy fuck, Icicle. You look like death warmed up. Told you they shouldn’t let you out alone."

He ought to be annoyed by all this, some part of his mind is telling him. That’s how it works: he should get all prickly about being “rescued” and pretend to be on top of things and in control and shoot back some half-bitter, half-ironic response.

Except he can’t think of any reason why, and the absurdly literal way in which he is actually falling apart tends to make nonchalant-and-in-control difficult to pull off, and he’s pretty much pushed himself to his emotional limits already by not breaking down into a panicky ball of stressed ice in front of Laurie, and… fuck it, he just wants someone else to take over, for once, and the fact that it turns out to be John doesn’t change that, it doesn’t mean this has to be weird.

Right?

And in any case, he realizes, he’s too choked up to say anything anyway, which he decides to blame on the jagged crack running through his jaw. So he settles for a slow nod of agreement, and leaves it to John to take over the show with what he convinces himself is nothing more than a profound sense of relief.

[Laurie Collins]

Bob’s first attempts at jocularity don’t seem to make much of a dent in Laurie’s attention, she’s moved to the alley wall and is leaning against it while her eyes dart around worriedly because he could still come back and she keeps up the attempt not to be an active hindrance.

"My second rescuers, I should say. Already been rescued once tonight. I’d swoon at your feet and cry ‘My hero’ like some romance-novel damsel in distress, except I’m not sure I’d get back up again. Especially once M—once your boyfriend found out."

She blinks at him looking a bit shocked. Sure she’d noticed that he wasn’t doing very well when she’d come on to the scene and that the Brotherhood had run away but somehow it hadn’t occurred to her as ‘rescuing’ because Bob is…Bob, older and an X-man and all calm even when half his face is gone and such. She’d just sort of assumed he had a plan. Well maybe I’m not so completely useless she thinks and returns his attempt at a grin with a weak one of her own before abruptly remembering what she’s probably going to have to tell Bob and everyone else about and goes back to looking sick and scared.

”We’ll take it from here. You okay, Mou-Wallflower?”

And the night keeps getting stranger because usually John’s voice elicits embarrassment and a feeling of being small and all of that but suddenly it’s the best noise she’s ever heard- trumpets and angel songs and ice cream truck bells and puppy barks all rolled into one. “J-” she remembers the stranger just in time, casting him a quick look and cutting off her exclamation of John’s name before turning back to him and attempting to transmit how very, very relieved she is to see him by facial expression alone.

”Holy fuck, Icicle. You look like death warmed up. Told you they shouldn’t let you out alone.”

“Pyro we really, really have to go.” she pleads softly as he shows no signs of action, looking keyed-up enough to run the whole way back to the Institute without stopping because if they come back now, with him, she won’t be able to do anything and John doesn’t have any protection against pheromones unless she can get it together enough to send out negating ones or something which is rather unlikely… I just want to go home.

[Bobby Drake]

> " Pyro we really, really have to go."

It’s odd hearing John being called Pyro in the field.

It’s not the first time that’s happened, of course, but Bobby normally doesn’t worry too much about these sorts of things while in the field. This time is different: his mind is wandering, now that he no longer has to keep it together for Laurie’s benefit, and in thinking about it he realizes how much it bugs him.

It makes perfect sense, of course; it was his codename back before he joined the Brotherhood, and he hasn’t changed it. But in Bobby’s mind “Pyro” has always been that other guy, the one who took off with Magneto and torched military installations and killed people. The guy who came back… that was John.

Which, he realizes as he thinks about it now, is utter nonsense: it’s the same guy. There’s not some “evil John” hiding inside him like a possessing demon (bad analogy, he decides as he flashes on that humiliating Danger Room scene with the incubus… and the even more humiliating scene when he challenged Hank about it afterwards, only to be told that Hank had never expected Bobby to actually succumb like that… Definitely not my finest hour. So much for rejoining the X-Men in this lifetime…).

Anyway, the point is, the John who came back is the same John who left, the Pyro working with the X-Men is the same Pyro who worked with the Brotherhood. Which shouldn’t be so difficult for Bobby to wrap his brain around… people don’t come conveniently prepackaged into good guys and bad guys, not in the real world. Logan comes across as a half-crazed serial killer most of the time – hell, he is a half-crazed serial killer! – but he’s got a good heart... whereas the cat-guy Bobby met at the mall last year seemed friendly and civilized but was cheerfully willing to eviscerate already-defeated prisoners.

Yeah. People are complicated. You can’t tell a book by its cover. Every rose has its thorn. Just like every night has its dawn, just like every cowboy sings a sad, sad song. Any other profound insights you want to share with the class, Drake? He starts to shake his head in annoyance, then stops abruptly when a small crack in his neck widens as he flexes it. Crap. Time to stop woolgathering and fix this!

Except he still has no idea how. So, OK. We get me back to the Institute, let the big brains take a look. Except Hank, Sue, and Reed are all off somewhere, probably attending some secret SHIELD conference or something. Whatever. One thing at a time. "Yeah, what, um, Wallflower said. We should get going before the Brotherhood comes back for a second round."

Not for the first time, he’s puzzled by Laurie’s codename. Sure, she’s shy, but by that logic John should be codenamed “Jerk”… is there a botanical reference to pheromones there I don’t get? Maybe she just really likes Peter Gabriel… He resolves to look it up on wikipedia once his fingers are working again, then realizes he’s woolgathering again and starts to climb back out of his car.

He freezes in panic a moment after he puts weight on his right leg and a fracture spider-webs from his cracked ankle all the way up his calf. Nothing actually falls off this time, thankfully, but it’s just a matter of time at this rate before he’s reduced to a pile of slowly melting component parts. "And I could really use a hand, here."

His mind refuses to let go of the image, though. Would I stay conscious if I fell apart altogether? Would it hurt? It seems like it should, but nothing else seems to. What if half of me got moved to a different room, would I be conscious in both places? Or just where my head is? But half of my fucking face is in pieces back there on the asphalt… this power makes no fucking sense!!! Hell… what if I did melt? Would I become some kind of sentient puddle, sloshing around the Institute like that thing from the Abyss? Or maybe they could melt me and pour me into a Bobby-shaped mold and keep me in the freezer ‘till I healed…

With an effort of will Bobby pulls his imagination away from that ever-more-macabre path. The most disturbing thing about that last idea, decides as he waits to be carried into the van, is that it might actually work.