fandom_muses | December
Arrogance - The best leaders inspire by example. When that's not an option, brute intimidation works pretty well, too. -Larry Kersten
[Follows THIS]
That gunshot. Sharp, slicing, right through the very core of his body. He woke abruptly with a rough gasp of breath, trying to tear the sweaty sheets from his body. His groggy consciousness took a few moments to set in and he rubbed his hand over his damp face to peer at the green illuminated numbers on the alarm clock beside the bed which told him it was 2.48am. He sighed as his breathing slowed and his pounding heart started to ease in the knowledge he was okay. The fucking nightmare again, only this time it wasn’t Mystique pulling the trigger with that flash of yellow in her eyes; it was John Allerdyce with a smug smirk on his lips and a laugh as he aimed the gun at his opposition.
Typical. The power of suggestion was a harsh thing and spending the afternoon with his old acquaintance had the cynical mutant that was Pyro showing up in his nightmares now, even though he hadn’t been there when Remy was hurt. There was no sense in it at all besides the fact his mind was playing tricks on him considering how long it had been since he had spoken to Pyro. He didn’t think they had ever exactly been friends, but Remy had never had a problem with elusive Brotherhood member. Besides the fact he was a member of the Brotherhood. But even then, Remy couldn’t ignore the fact they had grown up together at Xavier’s before Pyro switched sides. Sure, Pyro had a reputation as a rough rebel, into blowing things up or setting them on fire, but Remy’s own reputation didn’t leave much to be desired. He liked to blow things up, too, and hurt evil bastards, if need be. Life was too short to hold grudges against people who had never harmed you or even tried to. There were far too many people out there who really were enemies and Remy now knew just how fucking short life could be. Mere seconds, perhaps, if you were dancing on the precipice of danger.
It had been a nice change of scenery indulging in a lot of booze, the odd hit of cocaine and Tomb Raider on Remy’s home theatre screen. Angelina Jolie’s breasts and arse looked so much better on widescreen and the size of one’s wall. Arrogant vanity hadn’t let Remy escape a wave of uncertainty at inviting Pyro over, however. He got around like an eighty year old with a stick up his arse and he hated to appear weak in front of anyone, especially the likes of those on the opposition. In fact, he nearly called John and reneged on the offer, but determination not to give a fuck won out.
And it had been nice to reminisce without the strain of X-Men versus Brotherhood hanging over their heads. Just sniggering at people they shared in the past and shared more comments about boobs and sex than could keep the situation modest or respectful. Pyro asked a few bits and pieces more about the old crowd and Remy filled some gaps in where he could. They mostly just drank too much, swore too much, smoked too much, and perved not nearly enough. That sort of mind-numbing crap with someone totally independent of his situation was probably exactly what Remy needed.
So, it wasn’t any wonder Remy’s sleeping subconscious of John’s involvement with the Brotherhood was linking to Mystique shooting him, no matter how unnerving. He realised his hands were shaking and he was still sweating. In his sleep, he had shifted right away from Flynn and Maddy in the bed. It was a miracle he hadn’t fallen out. He pushed the covers back and managed to get up and sit stiffly on the edge of the bed. He had to stop and take a few bracing breaths before reaching for his cane and standing. He needed to cool down and he needed a smoke. He also needed to stop his mind racing in overdrive… again. This was almost a nightly occurrence now. Not just flashbacks, but fear and uncertainty working together to ensure there was no sound sleep for him. He pulled his leather jacket on over his t-shirt and pyjama pants and then made his way out onto his balcony. It was a chilly night, but the cold hit him with a sobering jolt and he looked out over the neighbourhood as he lit up a cigarette. Maybe this was just his lot now? Nightmares and pain. But at least he wasn’t dead.
At least he wasn’t alone.
Pyro [realnamepyro], Rogue [justalilcontact], Madison James [canmakeufeel] & Flynn Hunter [strips4u] referenced permission
Word Count | 764
[Follows THIS]
That gunshot. Sharp, slicing, right through the very core of his body. He woke abruptly with a rough gasp of breath, trying to tear the sweaty sheets from his body. His groggy consciousness took a few moments to set in and he rubbed his hand over his damp face to peer at the green illuminated numbers on the alarm clock beside the bed which told him it was 2.48am. He sighed as his breathing slowed and his pounding heart started to ease in the knowledge he was okay. The fucking nightmare again, only this time it wasn’t Mystique pulling the trigger with that flash of yellow in her eyes; it was John Allerdyce with a smug smirk on his lips and a laugh as he aimed the gun at his opposition.
Typical. The power of suggestion was a harsh thing and spending the afternoon with his old acquaintance had the cynical mutant that was Pyro showing up in his nightmares now, even though he hadn’t been there when Remy was hurt. There was no sense in it at all besides the fact his mind was playing tricks on him considering how long it had been since he had spoken to Pyro. He didn’t think they had ever exactly been friends, but Remy had never had a problem with elusive Brotherhood member. Besides the fact he was a member of the Brotherhood. But even then, Remy couldn’t ignore the fact they had grown up together at Xavier’s before Pyro switched sides. Sure, Pyro had a reputation as a rough rebel, into blowing things up or setting them on fire, but Remy’s own reputation didn’t leave much to be desired. He liked to blow things up, too, and hurt evil bastards, if need be. Life was too short to hold grudges against people who had never harmed you or even tried to. There were far too many people out there who really were enemies and Remy now knew just how fucking short life could be. Mere seconds, perhaps, if you were dancing on the precipice of danger.
It had been a nice change of scenery indulging in a lot of booze, the odd hit of cocaine and Tomb Raider on Remy’s home theatre screen. Angelina Jolie’s breasts and arse looked so much better on widescreen and the size of one’s wall. Arrogant vanity hadn’t let Remy escape a wave of uncertainty at inviting Pyro over, however. He got around like an eighty year old with a stick up his arse and he hated to appear weak in front of anyone, especially the likes of those on the opposition. In fact, he nearly called John and reneged on the offer, but determination not to give a fuck won out.
And it had been nice to reminisce without the strain of X-Men versus Brotherhood hanging over their heads. Just sniggering at people they shared in the past and shared more comments about boobs and sex than could keep the situation modest or respectful. Pyro asked a few bits and pieces more about the old crowd and Remy filled some gaps in where he could. They mostly just drank too much, swore too much, smoked too much, and perved not nearly enough. That sort of mind-numbing crap with someone totally independent of his situation was probably exactly what Remy needed.
So, it wasn’t any wonder Remy’s sleeping subconscious of John’s involvement with the Brotherhood was linking to Mystique shooting him, no matter how unnerving. He realised his hands were shaking and he was still sweating. In his sleep, he had shifted right away from Flynn and Maddy in the bed. It was a miracle he hadn’t fallen out. He pushed the covers back and managed to get up and sit stiffly on the edge of the bed. He had to stop and take a few bracing breaths before reaching for his cane and standing. He needed to cool down and he needed a smoke. He also needed to stop his mind racing in overdrive… again. This was almost a nightly occurrence now. Not just flashbacks, but fear and uncertainty working together to ensure there was no sound sleep for him. He pulled his leather jacket on over his t-shirt and pyjama pants and then made his way out onto his balcony. It was a chilly night, but the cold hit him with a sobering jolt and he looked out over the neighbourhood as he lit up a cigarette. Maybe this was just his lot now? Nightmares and pain. But at least he wasn’t dead.
At least he wasn’t alone.
Pyro [realnamepyro], Rogue [justalilcontact], Madison James [canmakeufeel] & Flynn Hunter [strips4u] referenced permission
Word Count | 764