Deliverance, Chapter 1, Part 1
Title: Deliverance, Chapter 1, Part 1
Authors:
frozencatnip,
melodyrider,
fatal_blue
Prompt:616 | Pete Wisdom, White Queen, Iceman, Dazzler, Magik, Shadowcat, and John the Skrull | The X-Men as a whole abandoned Shadowcat to her fate, but not everyone is quite so ready to give up on her.
Rating:PG
Word count: 5,726
Disclaimer: The characters and settings featured in this story are the property of Marvel Entertainment. We're making no money at this, much though we might wish otherwise. Deliverance takes place post-Giant Sized Astonishing #1 and during current Marvel story arcs.
Chapter One: Common Causes
Pete hung up the phone and glared at the receiver, wondering just what kind of intelligence agency he was running.
He’d figured that Kitty was somehow involved when he’d gotten the reports of the giant metal thingamabob that had passed through the Earth without leaving a mark. Seemed like the kind of mess she’d take on, and the power signature was unmistakable. And yeah, he’d wondered just how she’d managed to pull that off, considering it was a damn sight bigger than anything he’d ever seen her phase before.
He couldn’t believe he’d let it drop there and just let his agents keep tabs on what Earth’s most brilliant heroes were doing to get her back out again. ‘Course, he’d been busy with the whole Skrull invasion, but...
It was Kitty. He should’ve gotten to work right from the start on finding a way to save her from her predicament, especially since “bonded to the inside of a giant bullet” was a bit extreme, even for her. Granted, he’d passed on the chance to save her when he’d been given that… wish, but he’d also thought he’d left John to rot, too, and there’d been too many lives on the line to spend it on individuals. They’d saved John’s green arse in the end, though, and if they could save John, he was damn well going to do the same for Kitty.
He got to his feet and made a grab for his coat, cursing as he groped for a pack of cigarettes that wasn’t there. He’d known trying to quit had been a bad idea. First thing he was doing when he got to the States was buying half a dozen cartons. He was going to need them to pull this off; he always did his best thinking with people accusing him of giving them cancer, and given that Kitty had one hell of a head start on him, this was going to take every resource he could drum up.
Apparently her own spandex-wearing teammates hadn’t gotten around to doing a thing about rescuing Kitty from a fate worse than outright death. That was going to change, now. Even setting his personal feelings aside, anyone could see that this was something that needed doing.
* * * * * * *
“You want me to what?”
John lifted his eyebrows incredulously as he regarded Pete behind his signature round glasses. The last of the Skrull Beatles had done a lot in the defense of Earth against his own people, but what his commander was asking of him had honestly taken him by surprise. “Dunno if I really heard you right.”
Pete tilted his head forward, one finger drawing his shades down his nose so he could look John straight in the eyes. “I spoke clearly enough, mate,” he said, voice firm and confident. “So can you fly it?”
That was the question. “Might take a bit to get used to her,” John conceded after a few moments of silent consideration. “The last model I flew’s been obsolete for two decades, like, but most of the basics are the same, so if you really need me-”
“That’s settled then,” Pete interrupted, apparently satisfied with the answer.
John was not to be deterred. “But the Lamprey’s Crown property now,” he reminded the dark-haired secret agent. The Skrull scout ship had been one of the spoils of Britain’s victory in their part of the war with the shapechanging aliens, and the country’s top scientists were already hard at work inspecting it and all the technology it held. “You’ll never get permission to use it, especially for something like this.”
Smirking slightly, Pete said, “Let me worry about that, yeah?” He slid back into the cushioned chair behind his desk and formed a steeple with his fingers. “That’s sorted then,” he continued. “Now we need to track down the rest o’ the crew.”
“Want me to round up the others, then?” John offered, glancing around the empty office. He wasn’t sure where they’d all taken off to, but most likely it wasn’t far…
“No,” Pete told him, reaching for a clipboard and turning the top sheet over. “Not for this. I have something different in mind. Pack your things. We’re off to San Francisco.”
* * * * * * *
Emma Grace Frost paced the room with the sure step of a lioness on the prowl, her posture textbook-prefect and failing to betray even the slightest hint of discomfort. Yet it was pacing nonetheless, and so upon reaching her desk the former White Queen paused, brushing gloved fingers along the smooth wooden surface as if she were on the verge of casually leaning against it. “How were you able to find us, Agent Wisdom?” she said with clipped formality as she regarded the man through ice-blue eyes, face impassive.
She knew, of course. Much though she might care to dismiss the efficiency with which the world’s intelligence agencies operated, she was well aware of Peter Wisdom’s abilities in that regard. In fact, she was rather surprised it had taken him this long to seek her out, if only for a first hand account of the…situation.
Yes. Best to think of it as that, rather than as yet another failure on her part.
“It’s called ‘intelligence’ for a reason,” Wisdom replied around a fresh cigarette. The noxious fumes permeated the room in a foul mist and Emma’s nostrils flared ever-so-slightly as she idly reached for the small, plastic desk fan located near her computer monitor. A small press of a button and it whirred to life, dispersing the smoke just enough to provide scant relief.
Expression unchanging, Emma said, “This heat can be unbearable at times, don’t you agree?” She could sense Wisdom’s own discomfort with the climate rising to the surface of his thoughts at that remark and allowed herself a mental smile. She herself exuded a practiced aura of perfect comfort, with not a single drop of sweat to mar her flawlessly smooth skin. Her alabaster business suit was more cover than she typically wore, yet still managed to reveal a generous amount of cleavage. The color served as a stark counterpoint to the very dark pants and tie Wisdom was wearing, his trenchcoat long since abandoned and hanging on a rack by the door. “I believe you said something about being able to save Katherine when you requested this meeting.”
Wisdom smirked, just a little, and said, “You get straight to the point, don’t you?” He approved, by the sound of his voice, but didn’t specify either way. “Accent could use some work, though. Yeah, I’ve got a ship that can reach her, and a few ideas-”
“A few ideas?” Emma scoffed dismissively, suppressing the surge of hope she’d scarcely allowed herself to feel since Katherine had left them. “The top minds on Earth have been working out how to help her since before the mutant birth and have yet to arrive at a practical solution.”
“Yeah, I twigged that. Figure it’s time we took a turn.”
“We?”
Wisdom made a slight nod. “I need you. You’ve gone deeper in her mind than anyone.”
“No,” Emma said abruptly, face tightening as she cut him off from going any further. There was a hard, almost bitter edge to the word. “If it were that simple I… I would have… They’re working on it.” There was no denying the defeat in what she’d just said, and it disgusted her.
“Bollocks,” Wisdom shot back as he stepped closer to her. “I’ve seen their reports. They think they know what happened to her, but you stayed with her right until the end. You felt it, and our best chance of bringing her out of it is if you’re there.” Removing the cigarette from his mouth, he took another step, until he was only inches away from her, eye to eye and neither willing to yield. “Besides, aren’t you lot always going on about how the X-Men look after their own?”
He had a point. Emma’s eyes shifted to the side and she crossed to the other side of her table, as much to consider his words as to put some distance between them. “She… changed, Wisdom,” she said, the words almost coming out as a sigh as she let one hip come to rest against the desk. “It’s going to take more than my mind to bring her out of it, even if we find her.”
“We’ll find her,” Wisdom said without hesitation.
Emma’s eyes narrowed cannily as they flicked back over to Wisdom. “There is someone who might be able to address the other problem, although the poor boy doesn’t realize it.” It was a long shot, yes, but the potential was there. She knew that, far better than anyone. Certainly far better than the boy did himself. Of all the possibilities her mind had picked at and discarded over the intervening weeks, this was the most likely to succeed, given the resources at hand.
A longshot, yes. But then, the man before her had something of a history of playing longshots that worked out. And she wasn’t quite as prepared to abandon Katherine to her fate as Scott believed.
“Yeah?” Pete said, letting his interest show with a slight arch to his eyebrows. “And who’s that?”
The smallest of smiles played over Emma’s lips as she regarded the Englishman. “Tell me, Mr. Wisdom. Have you ever met Robert Drake?”
* * * * * * *
“You want to do what?”
Bobby’s stare flipped from Emma to the surly looking Brit she’d introduced as Pete Wisdom and back again as he fought to pull his jaw up off the floor.
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t given any thought to the fate of Kitty Pryde. He had. A lot of it, actually, once he’d heard Scott explain just what the brains of the superhero community thought had happened. He liked Kitty, and the idea that she was flying through the galaxy, alone and bonded to a giant bullet or missile or whatever it was, made him sick to his stomach. He’d been one of the multitude of heroes on that space station hit by that magical backlash that made everyone think they stopped the bullet and saved Kitty. Waking up to find out it was all an illusion had been hard enough to take, and the explanation was a little too close to some of his own worse nightmares for comfort. It rubbed him the wrong way that everyone had all but abandoned her to her fate, especially considering that she’d just saved the world.
For all their “we look after our own” motto, it seemed to him that the X-Men didn’t do a whole lot of that these days.
But this…okay, he could see Emma going along with Wisdom’s plan; it took someone with all the sensitivity of Scott Summers to not realize how deeply Kitty’s loss had affected her, and he prided himself as having better interpersonal skills than their Fearless Leader. And he had to admit, the Skrull ship Pete had described was probably their best chance of catching up with the bullet. What he couldn’t figure out was why Emma had called him in to tell him about the plan, or why exactly she wanted him along.
Then too, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know. Emma’s plans for him tended to have unfortunate side effects, ranging from unconsciousness to the creation of extra-pointy ice extremities. As a rule, he generally tried to avoid Emma’s plans altogether.
“Told you already. We’re stealing a Skrull ship from the British government, flying it after the bullet, and rescuing Kitty from the mess you gits left her in. Are you in or not?” Wisdom stubbed out his cigarette on Emma’s coffee cup, ignoring the glare she shot him and instead meeting Bobby’s eyes with a look that suggested he was taking his measure and wasn’t impressed with the final analysis.
Considering Bobby gave himself a similar look pretty much every morning in the mirror, he was pretty much unfazed by that. He could, however, make a point of trying to prove otherwise.
“Of course he’s in,” Emma said coolly, her lips curling up in what passed as a smile. “Robert wouldn’t dream of leaving a damsel in distress. Would you?” she asked, eyebrows raised.
It wasn’t even a question, really. She was just waiting for confirmation. And as usual, she was right.
“I’m in,” he heard himself saying. It was pretty much inevitable that he was going to regret whatever Emma was plotting later, but she was right. If there was a chance of getting Kitty out in one piece, he wasn’t about to say no.
He paused a moment to choose from among the questions flooding his mind for which was the most likely to be answered, then grinned over at Pete.
“So, how are we going to get the Skrull ship?” he asked. “And can I fly it?”
* * * * * * *
A jet lagged Ali was not a happy or patient Ali, and the former pop star turned superhero heaved a sigh of annoyance as she stepped through the doorway and noted the absence of anyone at the desk in the outer office. Dropping her duffle in the nearest chair, she made a bee-line for the closed door leading to the inner office, following the faint sound of muffled voices from inside.
“Might want to give them a minute,” an unfamiliar, accented voice warned, breaking into her thoughts and stalling her intentions. Hand pausing on the doorknob, Ali’s head swiveled to the side, eyes narrowed, then suddenly widening in surprise. Was that…?
…Nah, no way.
But it definitely looked like John Lennon was sitting in the outer office, thumbing through a beat up copy of Maxim. Shapeshifter? Ghost? Clone? Alternate reality duplicate?
One too many vodka martinis on USAir?
“That so?” she asked noncommittally, reining in the initial surprise and raising an eyebrow, hand still poised on the doorknob and ready to blast…whatever or whoever this was if he did anything suspicious. Besides looking like a dead guy. It wasn’t like that didn’t happen a lot when you ran with this crowd. “Big meeting?”
John Lennon, looking the very picture of a Beatles cover album from the 60s come to life, pushed his stylishly retro glasses up on his nose and regarded her more or less calmly in return, shoulders lifting in a negligent shrug. “Seems so. I’m just the hired help, waiting my turn.”
Right. Dead John Lennon was the new butler. It all made sense now.
The temptation to open the door and ask whoever was in this ‘big meeting’ if they knew the dead rock singer camped out in the outer office was even greater than it’d been to announce her presence so she could get some sleep, but Ali discarded that idea pretty fast. Mostly because that sort of question just didn’t carry the surprise factor around here it would most other places.
“So, what, you’re here to join up?” she asked instead, moving away from the door and perching on the edge of the desk, legs crossing smoothly and regarding him across the distance. “Those White Album royalties must really suck these days.”
A snort of what sounded might’ve been amusement or exasperation and Not-John was shooting her a level look through those same retro glasses. “Yeah,” he deadpanned and she thought she caught the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “S’all Boko’s fault.” Dropping the magazine into his lap, the likeness of a dead music icon shook his head. “But don’t get too attached, like. I’m back to London, once we’re done in space.”
That went a long way toward confirming all those National Enquirer rumors that John Lennon was an alien. Interest piqued and desire to check in and run blown out of the water, Ali made a mental note to ask him about Elvis before this was over.
“Back to the home planet for a visit, huh?” the former singer asked with good natured sarcasm and an equally good natured smile. “Business or pleasure?” John’s reaction was, to say the least, not the one she’d expected. What she got for asking a question like that around here of all places.
“Business, nothing to do with the Empire, though,” he stated matter of factly, leaning back in his chair and draping his arms casually along the top edge. “Right mess, that is. Wouldn’t go near it these days.” John Lennon was an alien? Oh, great. Seriously, she was getting too old for this and her heart couldn’t take it. Maybe it wasn’t too late to try to pick her career back up after all.
“Right…” Ali agreed, kind of, wondering which Empire and which mess he might be referring to but deciding it was in the best interest of her time-zone addled brain to save those questions for later. Hey, not like it was the first time she’d stumbled on random aliens hanging around the house. Probably wouldn’t be the last. Live with the X-Men, learn to deal. “So that’s the big meeting. Another trip to space. Looks like I’d better catch that nap, if I’m planning on getting one.”
“Pete’s idea,” John interjected with a shrug and a nod, and Ali’s head came up again, eyes snapping to his face. “Got his head set on rescuing some girl they lost a month or so back. He’s in there hashing it out with the Lady in White now.”
And it all clicked into place. Blue eyes slid sidelong to the still closed office door, nerves doing a jangling dance before she put a firm clamp on them. Fate had decided to play a lot of games with her lately, and looked like this was just one more. Sometimes, Fate was a real bitch.
“They’re going after Kitty.” It wasn’t a question as she looked back toward John, finding the dead, alien, ex-Beatle, whatever, smiling back at her in a way Ali was sure had made a few thousand teeny-boppers pass out cold back in the day.
“That’s the plan. Can’t say I’ll mind the trip so much, if there’s more like you going along.”
Crooked smile curving her lips, she glanced from John, over to the door, and back again. “There aren’t any more like me. I’m one of a kind,” she assured him, bracing her hands on the edge of the desk and settling in. Looked like that nap would have to wait. “But you can bet I’ll be going along on this one.”
* * * * * * *
A flash of light preceded her arrival by seconds, just enough time to allow the pair in the office to turn and look startled.
Illyana grinned, red eyes glowing ominously as hoofed feet came into contact with solid ground. With any luck the two would run, leaving her free access to the woman behind the other door. All she needed was four more souls, and of the people she’d feel least guilty about harvesting one from, Emma Frost was on the top of the list.
Pixie had been a mistake. She knew that, and felt a twinge of conscience when she realized she’d subjected the innocent teen to exactly what Belasco had done to her. Granted, she still couldn’t think of anything else she might’ve done, but it had been wrong.
Emma, though…
“Whoa. So, are you related to Tink or something? ‘Cause if you’re popping by for a visit, she sat out this jaunt.”
Illyana frowned as her eyes settled in on the man who’d spoken, who was looking her over as if impressed by what he was seeing. He looked familiar; not someone she knew, but someone she’d seen before. But before she could pull a name from her memory, an incredulous voice spoke up.
“Illyana? Or is this some huge Skrull reunion type thing?”
She knew that voice, and her eyes widened as she turned to look at the other woman in the room. Pink hair, now, far shorter than she’d ever seen it, but there was no mistaking the face.
“Alison?” she squeaked, forgetting for the moment that soulless demon sorceresses didn’t make squeaky sounds, and that she on a mission to rectify the whole soulless part.
“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” they both said at once.
“Y’know, I get that all the time,” the man said drily with a wave of his hand. “Even came close to it for real the other day. But both you birds look alive to me.”
“I can’t believe - just look at you!”
Before Illyana could reply to that, she found herself on the receiving end of an excited embrace. And even more surprisingly, found herself returning it.
“I thought you died in Dallas,” she finally managed to blurt out.
“Yeah well, I thought you died of Legacy. It sort of evens things out, right?”
Illyana let out a soft snort of laughter. “Pretty much,” she admitted, still feeling more than a little dazed. She’d known that somehow, her brother had survived the confrontation with the Adversary. But for Dazzler to be alive as well…
“What about the others?” she asked, pulling back from Ali’s shoulder. “Storm, Wolverine…?”
“All alive,” Ali confirmed with a nod as she moved back and hopped up on the desk she’d been leaning against. “Sorry about the whole faking our own deaths thing. It was one of those ideas that sounded good in theory, not so much in practice. Now tell me, what’ve you been up to? We’re heading out in a few minutes to rescue Kitty from the giant bullet of doom, but we can catch up until then.”
“From what?” she asked, a surge of dread crashing over her. If Kitty was gone…seeing Alison, it was hard to dismiss the feeling that her initial idea about retrieving her humanity had been the right one. She’d known how, once, and it hadn’t had anything to do with the medallion, or the souls of others, just her own. But if Kitty was gone…
“Y’know, I rather liked the tail long,” observed the man behind the desk, who she finally recognized as a dead ringer for one of the Beatles. “Not that it doesn’t look brilliant short, I’m just saying.”
Blinking, Illyana glanced over her shoulder at the tail she’d been sporting ever since her return, and smiled. Shorter by half, at least, and looking far more like the one she’d had in previous Darkchylde incarnations than the lizard-like monstrosity that had made sitting down impossible. She might just be able to pull this off after all.
“Okay, tell me what Pryde managed to get herself into this time,” Illyana said as she planted herself awkwardly on the desktop beside Alison Blaire. Who, despite all evidence to the contrary, wasn’t dead after all. “I swear, I die for a little while, and everything just goes to Hell.”
Including her. But it was just possible there was still hope for her, too.
(Continued in Chapter 1, part 2)
Authors:
frozencatnip,
melodyrider,
fatal_blue
Prompt:616 | Pete Wisdom, White Queen, Iceman, Dazzler, Magik, Shadowcat, and John the Skrull | The X-Men as a whole abandoned Shadowcat to her fate, but not everyone is quite so ready to give up on her.
Rating:PG
Word count: 5,726
Disclaimer: The characters and settings featured in this story are the property of Marvel Entertainment. We're making no money at this, much though we might wish otherwise. Deliverance takes place post-Giant Sized Astonishing #1 and during current Marvel story arcs.
Chapter One: Common Causes
Pete hung up the phone and glared at the receiver, wondering just what kind of intelligence agency he was running.
He’d figured that Kitty was somehow involved when he’d gotten the reports of the giant metal thingamabob that had passed through the Earth without leaving a mark. Seemed like the kind of mess she’d take on, and the power signature was unmistakable. And yeah, he’d wondered just how she’d managed to pull that off, considering it was a damn sight bigger than anything he’d ever seen her phase before.
He couldn’t believe he’d let it drop there and just let his agents keep tabs on what Earth’s most brilliant heroes were doing to get her back out again. ‘Course, he’d been busy with the whole Skrull invasion, but...
It was Kitty. He should’ve gotten to work right from the start on finding a way to save her from her predicament, especially since “bonded to the inside of a giant bullet” was a bit extreme, even for her. Granted, he’d passed on the chance to save her when he’d been given that… wish, but he’d also thought he’d left John to rot, too, and there’d been too many lives on the line to spend it on individuals. They’d saved John’s green arse in the end, though, and if they could save John, he was damn well going to do the same for Kitty.
He got to his feet and made a grab for his coat, cursing as he groped for a pack of cigarettes that wasn’t there. He’d known trying to quit had been a bad idea. First thing he was doing when he got to the States was buying half a dozen cartons. He was going to need them to pull this off; he always did his best thinking with people accusing him of giving them cancer, and given that Kitty had one hell of a head start on him, this was going to take every resource he could drum up.
Apparently her own spandex-wearing teammates hadn’t gotten around to doing a thing about rescuing Kitty from a fate worse than outright death. That was going to change, now. Even setting his personal feelings aside, anyone could see that this was something that needed doing.
* * * * * * *
“You want me to what?”
John lifted his eyebrows incredulously as he regarded Pete behind his signature round glasses. The last of the Skrull Beatles had done a lot in the defense of Earth against his own people, but what his commander was asking of him had honestly taken him by surprise. “Dunno if I really heard you right.”
Pete tilted his head forward, one finger drawing his shades down his nose so he could look John straight in the eyes. “I spoke clearly enough, mate,” he said, voice firm and confident. “So can you fly it?”
That was the question. “Might take a bit to get used to her,” John conceded after a few moments of silent consideration. “The last model I flew’s been obsolete for two decades, like, but most of the basics are the same, so if you really need me-”
“That’s settled then,” Pete interrupted, apparently satisfied with the answer.
John was not to be deterred. “But the Lamprey’s Crown property now,” he reminded the dark-haired secret agent. The Skrull scout ship had been one of the spoils of Britain’s victory in their part of the war with the shapechanging aliens, and the country’s top scientists were already hard at work inspecting it and all the technology it held. “You’ll never get permission to use it, especially for something like this.”
Smirking slightly, Pete said, “Let me worry about that, yeah?” He slid back into the cushioned chair behind his desk and formed a steeple with his fingers. “That’s sorted then,” he continued. “Now we need to track down the rest o’ the crew.”
“Want me to round up the others, then?” John offered, glancing around the empty office. He wasn’t sure where they’d all taken off to, but most likely it wasn’t far…
“No,” Pete told him, reaching for a clipboard and turning the top sheet over. “Not for this. I have something different in mind. Pack your things. We’re off to San Francisco.”
* * * * * * *
Emma Grace Frost paced the room with the sure step of a lioness on the prowl, her posture textbook-prefect and failing to betray even the slightest hint of discomfort. Yet it was pacing nonetheless, and so upon reaching her desk the former White Queen paused, brushing gloved fingers along the smooth wooden surface as if she were on the verge of casually leaning against it. “How were you able to find us, Agent Wisdom?” she said with clipped formality as she regarded the man through ice-blue eyes, face impassive.
She knew, of course. Much though she might care to dismiss the efficiency with which the world’s intelligence agencies operated, she was well aware of Peter Wisdom’s abilities in that regard. In fact, she was rather surprised it had taken him this long to seek her out, if only for a first hand account of the…situation.
Yes. Best to think of it as that, rather than as yet another failure on her part.
“It’s called ‘intelligence’ for a reason,” Wisdom replied around a fresh cigarette. The noxious fumes permeated the room in a foul mist and Emma’s nostrils flared ever-so-slightly as she idly reached for the small, plastic desk fan located near her computer monitor. A small press of a button and it whirred to life, dispersing the smoke just enough to provide scant relief.
Expression unchanging, Emma said, “This heat can be unbearable at times, don’t you agree?” She could sense Wisdom’s own discomfort with the climate rising to the surface of his thoughts at that remark and allowed herself a mental smile. She herself exuded a practiced aura of perfect comfort, with not a single drop of sweat to mar her flawlessly smooth skin. Her alabaster business suit was more cover than she typically wore, yet still managed to reveal a generous amount of cleavage. The color served as a stark counterpoint to the very dark pants and tie Wisdom was wearing, his trenchcoat long since abandoned and hanging on a rack by the door. “I believe you said something about being able to save Katherine when you requested this meeting.”
Wisdom smirked, just a little, and said, “You get straight to the point, don’t you?” He approved, by the sound of his voice, but didn’t specify either way. “Accent could use some work, though. Yeah, I’ve got a ship that can reach her, and a few ideas-”
“A few ideas?” Emma scoffed dismissively, suppressing the surge of hope she’d scarcely allowed herself to feel since Katherine had left them. “The top minds on Earth have been working out how to help her since before the mutant birth and have yet to arrive at a practical solution.”
“Yeah, I twigged that. Figure it’s time we took a turn.”
“We?”
Wisdom made a slight nod. “I need you. You’ve gone deeper in her mind than anyone.”
“No,” Emma said abruptly, face tightening as she cut him off from going any further. There was a hard, almost bitter edge to the word. “If it were that simple I… I would have… They’re working on it.” There was no denying the defeat in what she’d just said, and it disgusted her.
“Bollocks,” Wisdom shot back as he stepped closer to her. “I’ve seen their reports. They think they know what happened to her, but you stayed with her right until the end. You felt it, and our best chance of bringing her out of it is if you’re there.” Removing the cigarette from his mouth, he took another step, until he was only inches away from her, eye to eye and neither willing to yield. “Besides, aren’t you lot always going on about how the X-Men look after their own?”
He had a point. Emma’s eyes shifted to the side and she crossed to the other side of her table, as much to consider his words as to put some distance between them. “She… changed, Wisdom,” she said, the words almost coming out as a sigh as she let one hip come to rest against the desk. “It’s going to take more than my mind to bring her out of it, even if we find her.”
“We’ll find her,” Wisdom said without hesitation.
Emma’s eyes narrowed cannily as they flicked back over to Wisdom. “There is someone who might be able to address the other problem, although the poor boy doesn’t realize it.” It was a long shot, yes, but the potential was there. She knew that, far better than anyone. Certainly far better than the boy did himself. Of all the possibilities her mind had picked at and discarded over the intervening weeks, this was the most likely to succeed, given the resources at hand.
A longshot, yes. But then, the man before her had something of a history of playing longshots that worked out. And she wasn’t quite as prepared to abandon Katherine to her fate as Scott believed.
“Yeah?” Pete said, letting his interest show with a slight arch to his eyebrows. “And who’s that?”
The smallest of smiles played over Emma’s lips as she regarded the Englishman. “Tell me, Mr. Wisdom. Have you ever met Robert Drake?”
* * * * * * *
“You want to do what?”
Bobby’s stare flipped from Emma to the surly looking Brit she’d introduced as Pete Wisdom and back again as he fought to pull his jaw up off the floor.
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t given any thought to the fate of Kitty Pryde. He had. A lot of it, actually, once he’d heard Scott explain just what the brains of the superhero community thought had happened. He liked Kitty, and the idea that she was flying through the galaxy, alone and bonded to a giant bullet or missile or whatever it was, made him sick to his stomach. He’d been one of the multitude of heroes on that space station hit by that magical backlash that made everyone think they stopped the bullet and saved Kitty. Waking up to find out it was all an illusion had been hard enough to take, and the explanation was a little too close to some of his own worse nightmares for comfort. It rubbed him the wrong way that everyone had all but abandoned her to her fate, especially considering that she’d just saved the world.
For all their “we look after our own” motto, it seemed to him that the X-Men didn’t do a whole lot of that these days.
But this…okay, he could see Emma going along with Wisdom’s plan; it took someone with all the sensitivity of Scott Summers to not realize how deeply Kitty’s loss had affected her, and he prided himself as having better interpersonal skills than their Fearless Leader. And he had to admit, the Skrull ship Pete had described was probably their best chance of catching up with the bullet. What he couldn’t figure out was why Emma had called him in to tell him about the plan, or why exactly she wanted him along.
Then too, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know. Emma’s plans for him tended to have unfortunate side effects, ranging from unconsciousness to the creation of extra-pointy ice extremities. As a rule, he generally tried to avoid Emma’s plans altogether.
“Told you already. We’re stealing a Skrull ship from the British government, flying it after the bullet, and rescuing Kitty from the mess you gits left her in. Are you in or not?” Wisdom stubbed out his cigarette on Emma’s coffee cup, ignoring the glare she shot him and instead meeting Bobby’s eyes with a look that suggested he was taking his measure and wasn’t impressed with the final analysis.
Considering Bobby gave himself a similar look pretty much every morning in the mirror, he was pretty much unfazed by that. He could, however, make a point of trying to prove otherwise.
“Of course he’s in,” Emma said coolly, her lips curling up in what passed as a smile. “Robert wouldn’t dream of leaving a damsel in distress. Would you?” she asked, eyebrows raised.
It wasn’t even a question, really. She was just waiting for confirmation. And as usual, she was right.
“I’m in,” he heard himself saying. It was pretty much inevitable that he was going to regret whatever Emma was plotting later, but she was right. If there was a chance of getting Kitty out in one piece, he wasn’t about to say no.
He paused a moment to choose from among the questions flooding his mind for which was the most likely to be answered, then grinned over at Pete.
“So, how are we going to get the Skrull ship?” he asked. “And can I fly it?”
* * * * * * *
A jet lagged Ali was not a happy or patient Ali, and the former pop star turned superhero heaved a sigh of annoyance as she stepped through the doorway and noted the absence of anyone at the desk in the outer office. Dropping her duffle in the nearest chair, she made a bee-line for the closed door leading to the inner office, following the faint sound of muffled voices from inside.
“Might want to give them a minute,” an unfamiliar, accented voice warned, breaking into her thoughts and stalling her intentions. Hand pausing on the doorknob, Ali’s head swiveled to the side, eyes narrowed, then suddenly widening in surprise. Was that…?
…Nah, no way.
But it definitely looked like John Lennon was sitting in the outer office, thumbing through a beat up copy of Maxim. Shapeshifter? Ghost? Clone? Alternate reality duplicate?
One too many vodka martinis on USAir?
“That so?” she asked noncommittally, reining in the initial surprise and raising an eyebrow, hand still poised on the doorknob and ready to blast…whatever or whoever this was if he did anything suspicious. Besides looking like a dead guy. It wasn’t like that didn’t happen a lot when you ran with this crowd. “Big meeting?”
John Lennon, looking the very picture of a Beatles cover album from the 60s come to life, pushed his stylishly retro glasses up on his nose and regarded her more or less calmly in return, shoulders lifting in a negligent shrug. “Seems so. I’m just the hired help, waiting my turn.”
Right. Dead John Lennon was the new butler. It all made sense now.
The temptation to open the door and ask whoever was in this ‘big meeting’ if they knew the dead rock singer camped out in the outer office was even greater than it’d been to announce her presence so she could get some sleep, but Ali discarded that idea pretty fast. Mostly because that sort of question just didn’t carry the surprise factor around here it would most other places.
“So, what, you’re here to join up?” she asked instead, moving away from the door and perching on the edge of the desk, legs crossing smoothly and regarding him across the distance. “Those White Album royalties must really suck these days.”
A snort of what sounded might’ve been amusement or exasperation and Not-John was shooting her a level look through those same retro glasses. “Yeah,” he deadpanned and she thought she caught the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “S’all Boko’s fault.” Dropping the magazine into his lap, the likeness of a dead music icon shook his head. “But don’t get too attached, like. I’m back to London, once we’re done in space.”
That went a long way toward confirming all those National Enquirer rumors that John Lennon was an alien. Interest piqued and desire to check in and run blown out of the water, Ali made a mental note to ask him about Elvis before this was over.
“Back to the home planet for a visit, huh?” the former singer asked with good natured sarcasm and an equally good natured smile. “Business or pleasure?” John’s reaction was, to say the least, not the one she’d expected. What she got for asking a question like that around here of all places.
“Business, nothing to do with the Empire, though,” he stated matter of factly, leaning back in his chair and draping his arms casually along the top edge. “Right mess, that is. Wouldn’t go near it these days.” John Lennon was an alien? Oh, great. Seriously, she was getting too old for this and her heart couldn’t take it. Maybe it wasn’t too late to try to pick her career back up after all.
“Right…” Ali agreed, kind of, wondering which Empire and which mess he might be referring to but deciding it was in the best interest of her time-zone addled brain to save those questions for later. Hey, not like it was the first time she’d stumbled on random aliens hanging around the house. Probably wouldn’t be the last. Live with the X-Men, learn to deal. “So that’s the big meeting. Another trip to space. Looks like I’d better catch that nap, if I’m planning on getting one.”
“Pete’s idea,” John interjected with a shrug and a nod, and Ali’s head came up again, eyes snapping to his face. “Got his head set on rescuing some girl they lost a month or so back. He’s in there hashing it out with the Lady in White now.”
And it all clicked into place. Blue eyes slid sidelong to the still closed office door, nerves doing a jangling dance before she put a firm clamp on them. Fate had decided to play a lot of games with her lately, and looked like this was just one more. Sometimes, Fate was a real bitch.
“They’re going after Kitty.” It wasn’t a question as she looked back toward John, finding the dead, alien, ex-Beatle, whatever, smiling back at her in a way Ali was sure had made a few thousand teeny-boppers pass out cold back in the day.
“That’s the plan. Can’t say I’ll mind the trip so much, if there’s more like you going along.”
Crooked smile curving her lips, she glanced from John, over to the door, and back again. “There aren’t any more like me. I’m one of a kind,” she assured him, bracing her hands on the edge of the desk and settling in. Looked like that nap would have to wait. “But you can bet I’ll be going along on this one.”
* * * * * * *
A flash of light preceded her arrival by seconds, just enough time to allow the pair in the office to turn and look startled.
Illyana grinned, red eyes glowing ominously as hoofed feet came into contact with solid ground. With any luck the two would run, leaving her free access to the woman behind the other door. All she needed was four more souls, and of the people she’d feel least guilty about harvesting one from, Emma Frost was on the top of the list.
Pixie had been a mistake. She knew that, and felt a twinge of conscience when she realized she’d subjected the innocent teen to exactly what Belasco had done to her. Granted, she still couldn’t think of anything else she might’ve done, but it had been wrong.
Emma, though…
“Whoa. So, are you related to Tink or something? ‘Cause if you’re popping by for a visit, she sat out this jaunt.”
Illyana frowned as her eyes settled in on the man who’d spoken, who was looking her over as if impressed by what he was seeing. He looked familiar; not someone she knew, but someone she’d seen before. But before she could pull a name from her memory, an incredulous voice spoke up.
“Illyana? Or is this some huge Skrull reunion type thing?”
She knew that voice, and her eyes widened as she turned to look at the other woman in the room. Pink hair, now, far shorter than she’d ever seen it, but there was no mistaking the face.
“Alison?” she squeaked, forgetting for the moment that soulless demon sorceresses didn’t make squeaky sounds, and that she on a mission to rectify the whole soulless part.
“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” they both said at once.
“Y’know, I get that all the time,” the man said drily with a wave of his hand. “Even came close to it for real the other day. But both you birds look alive to me.”
“I can’t believe - just look at you!”
Before Illyana could reply to that, she found herself on the receiving end of an excited embrace. And even more surprisingly, found herself returning it.
“I thought you died in Dallas,” she finally managed to blurt out.
“Yeah well, I thought you died of Legacy. It sort of evens things out, right?”
Illyana let out a soft snort of laughter. “Pretty much,” she admitted, still feeling more than a little dazed. She’d known that somehow, her brother had survived the confrontation with the Adversary. But for Dazzler to be alive as well…
“What about the others?” she asked, pulling back from Ali’s shoulder. “Storm, Wolverine…?”
“All alive,” Ali confirmed with a nod as she moved back and hopped up on the desk she’d been leaning against. “Sorry about the whole faking our own deaths thing. It was one of those ideas that sounded good in theory, not so much in practice. Now tell me, what’ve you been up to? We’re heading out in a few minutes to rescue Kitty from the giant bullet of doom, but we can catch up until then.”
“From what?” she asked, a surge of dread crashing over her. If Kitty was gone…seeing Alison, it was hard to dismiss the feeling that her initial idea about retrieving her humanity had been the right one. She’d known how, once, and it hadn’t had anything to do with the medallion, or the souls of others, just her own. But if Kitty was gone…
“Y’know, I rather liked the tail long,” observed the man behind the desk, who she finally recognized as a dead ringer for one of the Beatles. “Not that it doesn’t look brilliant short, I’m just saying.”
Blinking, Illyana glanced over her shoulder at the tail she’d been sporting ever since her return, and smiled. Shorter by half, at least, and looking far more like the one she’d had in previous Darkchylde incarnations than the lizard-like monstrosity that had made sitting down impossible. She might just be able to pull this off after all.
“Okay, tell me what Pryde managed to get herself into this time,” Illyana said as she planted herself awkwardly on the desktop beside Alison Blaire. Who, despite all evidence to the contrary, wasn’t dead after all. “I swear, I die for a little while, and everything just goes to Hell.”
Including her. But it was just possible there was still hope for her, too.
(Continued in Chapter 1, part 2)