'Rumours of my death...'*Come on Michael You can do it! You just have to work through the pain!* *Yeah right!* How often had he heard that. Too often. Every day during the long sessions of physiotherapy that had followed the accident. Every day since in his own head as he struggled to come to terms with the fact that this was what his life was going to be like from now on.
Sometimes, in dreams, he relived the whole thing. The slow turning of his head as the sound of the screeching engine reached his ears. The way the car seemed to fill the entire horizon. It was true, things did slow down, just like in the movies. He had seemed to have all the time he needed. Time enough to move, to run, somehow to avoid the oncoming mass of metal charging towards him. But of course he hadn’t! He remembered the moment of impact quite clearly. Remembered thinking, stupidly as he hit the ground *There now that wasn’t too bad, not as bad as I’d feared* Then his nervous system had kicked in and he’d realised that it was much worse than he could ever have imagined. He’d read later that they’d caught the drivers, a couple of kids, high on drugs and alcohol, going too fast in a stolen car. They’d got four months community service for the hit and run. He’d got compound fractures of both legs, a smashed pelvis, six broken ribs and massive internal injuries. Didn’t seem like a fair exchange to him.
And of course things didn’t end there. In fact you could say that they had put him where he was today. Started the ball rolling in any case. *Thanks guys I owe you one * It was because he had needed a blood transfusion that they had done the blood test. Without that Dr Brady would never have had the opportunity to spot the anomaly in the sample, run his own tests and discover the little gold mine that ran through Michael’s veins. *Mutant blood! Lucky me!! Help yourself! Glad to be of service.*
He still hadn’t got used to the fact that he was a mutant. It seemed too far fetched, like something he’d read in one of his beloved books. He certainly looked normal enough. Well that wasn’t quite true. At the moment he looked like death. *No! Lets face facts! I look like a junkie.* The short sleeved tee-shirt they’d dressed them in clearly showed the needle marks that scarred him from wrist to elbow. Hardly surprising after all he’d been through these last few months. He stifled a groan as the sedatives continued to clear from his head letting the pain flood back into his body. *Can’t let them know I’m awake. They’ll just shoot me full of more dope! Got to try to find a way out of this. Come on Michael get a grip!*
He often wondered if his brothers had hesitated at all when Brady had come to them with his little get rich quick scheme. Looking at George’s face as they neared their destination he doubted that they had. After all they had never really had time for him and he certainly had felt no inclination to follow them into the gangland violence and drug dealing that made up their lives. They were probably glad to get rid of him. Especially if they could make a fortune in the process.
He thought of his parents and sister. Still blissfully unaware of what was happening. Even his brother Frank was still in the dark. Frank, two years older than Michael and too ordinary to have been included in any of the older brother’s plans. Boring old Frank, who was content to follow in his fathers footsteps. Whose idea of a good time was to get drunk in the local pub and who never read anything more challenging than the Daily Star. Maybe he had the right idea. After all he was still safely at home while Michael, the so called brains of the family was now on his way to an unknown rendez -vous with people who intended to drain him dry and use his blood for chemical warfare.
As far as Frank and the others were concerned Michael had spent the last five months in a private clinic undergoing groundbreaking treatment on his shattered leg. Better they never learned the truth. The ‘clinic’ had been a lab borrowed from some of George’s contacts and the ‘groundbreaking treatment’ had consisted of being injected with one disease after another while Brady monitored the slow struggle as his blood formed the precious antibodies necessary to cure them. *Just like a coffee dispenser* he thought ironically *Insert disease, press the button and Hey Presto instant cure.*
Except it wasn’t instant. Not even close and the process was getting slower all the time. He suspected that Brady had pushed things along too fast, overloading his system and upsetting the delicate balance necessary for the transformation to take place. Hardly surprising, Brady was more of a two bit quack than a medical genius. In fact the whole scheme was strictly amateur compared to what Michael suspected was waiting for him when the plane landed.
He forced his eyes open. The plane was smaller than the last one, some sort of private jet by the looks of things. They must have changed over while he was still unconscious. Probably meant they were getting close to their final destination, whatever that may be. Somewhere in the States he had heard George say, but he suspected that even George didn’t know exactly where. And he also suspected that George was scared, almost as scared as Michael. He must have realised that he was playing out of his league. “Big money means big risks” George had said. Michael wondered if he had understood just how big the risks were going to be when he had agreed to all this.
Sure, George had taken precautions against being ripped off by these so called ‘buyers’. The explosives strapped to Michael’s body were proof of that. but Michael somehow doubted they would prove sufficient to deter those who awaited him at the end of this journey. Anyway there was nothing he could do about them His hands were securely handcuffed behind his back. *So they still think I might try something do they?* At another time he might have found this flattering. Now it was just another source of pain.
*I’ve got to have more information* he thought.*If I go into this blind I’m dead in the water.* Slowly he focused his mind, slowing his heart rate and picturing himself floating free from his body. The first time he had ‘separated’ had been just after the accident. 'Out of body experience' they had said when he’d spoken to the nurses about it. Well known amongst those who had nearly died. He didn’t care what the official name was. It had felt so good, so right. He hadn’t wanted to return to his wrecked body but in the end he had been forced to, losing control of the phantom form and sinking back into the all too solid flesh.
Then, weeks afterwards, when the pain had become too great, he had tried again, seeking only a moments release. And to his delight the miracle had happened. He had floated free, seeing and hearing all that was going on around him, passing through the walls as if they weren’t there. It was a wonderful, magical experience and he had embraced it with joy and infinite gratitude. At first this had been enough , the universal ‘time out’ when things had become unbearable . He had cherished and nurtured his gift during the long months of rehabilitation and beyond, when he had begun to pick up the fractured segments of his life. School , exams, the eventual entry to university. It had been a secret, forbidden luxury. Nothing more and certainly nothing less.
But then Brady had come calling, dangling the enticing hook of possible recovery. *How could I have been so blind!* But it had all seemed so tempting. Michael had swiftly realised after his release from hospital that any attempt to lead the life of a normal teenager would only be achieved through the extensive use of painkillers. Even with his cane, each step was a torture from which any possibility of escape was all too alluring. He had eagerly bought into their little fantasy, learning too late of his brothers treachery and betrayal.
It was then, during the long months of experimentation, that Michael had begun to ask more of his astral form. Astral projection! For that was what his power seemed to be. He had done his research thoroughly, thought he had never come across anything which seemed to correspond exactly to his own experience. Perhaps it was another manifestation of his mutant abilities He neither knew nor cared. All that mattered was that his captors seemed unaware of his ability to leave his body at will, and that he had begun to suspect that his astral form was perhaps capable of more than he had previously believed.
Strap someone to a bed and shoot them full of diphtheria and its amazing what lengths they’ll go to to escape. It was as he fought to recover from the aftermath of the debilitating disease that Michael had first tried to give form to his astral self. Sure the image had always been there at the back of his mind. The bow and arrows had been present even that first time in the hospital! “It’s normal for the dying to see an idealised image of themselves” the nurses had said. “Weren’t you working on some sort of Robin Hood project when the accident occurred??” *Great! Robin Hood, childhood idol!!* Embarrassing perhaps for a Scot to manifest his perfect image as an English folk hero but he could live with that. *Got lucky!*The following weeks project had been Henry the Eight. *What kind of powers would that have generated? Get fat real quick and marry lots of women??* He suspected that if he ever managed to entirely materialise Hood he would prove rather more efficient. *Legolas eat your heart out*
But first he had to manifest. For the moment he had managed to control his movements in his invisible form and was also capable of forming a sort of transparent ghostlike image. It had been strange the first time he had ever seen the phantom Hood in the mirror. *Hey its still me!* he had thought *but me as I should be, strong and fast and intact.* The bow felt like an extension of his own body and he suspected he knew how to use it. The quiver that hung at his back had been full. And it always would be he knew instinctively. But Hood still hadn’t been solid enough to affect the objects around him, to untie the straps holding Michael down and find a way to escape. The frustration was overpowering. Michael was so close to breaking through this final barrier but it was always just out of reach.
And it put a strain on his already weakened body. For Hood to become physically present Michael had to pour almost all of his life force into his astral form. He’d seen something like it in science class, two jars joined together, half full of liquid. When one jar was full the other was empty. *That’s it.That’s me and Hood! Only enough life force for one of us at any given time.* Maybe he was just too scared to go all the way, to give himself over entirely to being Hood. Maybe that was what was holding him back. He doubted it though. There had been times in these last few months when death had seemed like the easy option, when just getting through the next day had been an act of defiance. He wouldn’t let them win, wouldn’t let himself be used any more. He’s find a way to get free. And if he had to die in the process so be it. Better that than to go on like this.
*Careful now no negative thoughts.* He was going to get out of this alive. He just had to come up with a plan. Fully separated now he floated towards his brother and Brady. *Maybe if I listen in to what they’re saying I’ll get a better idea of what’s waiting for me down there* he thought. Funny to think that he could see them while they had no idea of his presence. Funny, but useful.
“Aye well Brady I just hope your test results don’t let us down I mean look at him! Hell I wouldn’t give five quid for something that looked like that.”
“Easy George, remember they’re not interested in how he looks, just in how he works. Anyway, they wouldn’t have set all this up if they weren’t ready to bid now would they?”
“You’re right, you’re right. Just getting a bit jumpy I suppose. I mean how much clout do you have to have to get a plane like this permission to land with security the way it is at the moment.”
*Lots. That’s how much* thought Michael So his brother was beginning to feel the strain. *Good! Let him sweat for a change.* Michael supposed he should feel alarmed as well. Its hardly reassuring if the guy with his finger on the detonator starts to get twitchy. He was all to aware of the plastic explosives still strapped to his now unconscious body. *Sad state of affaires when getting blown to bits seems to be the least of your worries.*
George was getting angry now. Michael could feel the tension mounting between the two men
“And what about these other dealers they talked about? George went on. I thought you said Michael was some sort of boy wonder. Only one on the market and all that rubbish. If you were wrong about that maybe you were wrong about the rest.”
*Other dealers? You mean this kind of thing goes all the time? Is there some great underground mutant slave trade out there or what?* Now it was Michaels turn to get angry.*Is this what it’s like to be a mutant? People think they can do what they like to you and no one will bat an eyelid? Whatever happened to human rights? Or maybe they don’t consider us to be human* he suddenly thought. *Well it up to us to prove them wrong that’s all.*
*Careful, careful *The sudden surge of anger had almost caused him to transfer too much life to Hood. Just for an instant he had thought his hand was becoming visible. Transparent but visible all the same. He mustn’t blow things now. Especially since this new information had given him hope. *Other mutants.* They must be a desperate as he was to get free. Maybe they could work together. Maybe this secret power of his could give them an edge. All he had to do was wait for the right moment . And he was getting very good at waiting.
A voice came over the intercom
Five minutes to landing Gentlemen. Time to fasten your seatbelts.
Well whatever was going to happen it would happen soon. And he would be ready for it.
The world was like a blur, streaks of colours rushing past him, the, someone was smoking, the guard that sat in the back of the car with Connor, he'd been smoking non-stop since they separated from Madison. The feral mutant had become extremely violent while his mind was able to sense her near by, the need to protect her shinning through even with the drugs they put in him. These idiots hadn't the faintest of clue as to what Connor's true powers were, all they knew was that A.Corp wanted the Enright’s and the legendary Wolverine, and any mutant freak that had a healing factor to such a great extent as their own.
The black car was pulling into an airport, the fuels and stench drifted into the already foul smelling vehicle and reaching Connor's hypersensitive nose. It was so hard to breathe, he felt ill and dizzy, the drugs aside, he was easily able to pass out just by the fumes and smoke that filled the air so thickly with its poisons. It had been a while drive. Well it felt like a while, the forty minutes felt like days, endless, pain filled, tormenting, long and dragging days. The needle marks had been healed and now disappeared, but the drugs where still effecting him, not as well since he had such a high resistance to toxins, poisons, virus's, he's never been sick before in his life, except for when they pump him full of drugs.
There was talking, but their words where slurred on Connor's mind, they had discovered his resistance to their drugs, the effects wearing off sooner then they where meant to. Every half hour they where dosing him, they had given him an injection when Madison, his sister, was dragged off into another car to be taken to the Center of Inquisition. Both cars where on the way there but Connor's driver had been called to pick up another 'object' that was being sent to the auction as well as meet up with yet another man who was a potential buyer.
It was the ending of February, or the beginning or March, Connor struggled to try and counter the days that had passed, both he and his sister where being moved about to often, but with their constant drugging they where asleep or too far out of it to understand where they where going or how long they had been traveling. If someone had told him it was the sixth of March he wouldn't have believed them, too many days would have passed between when they where captured and now. He was so convinced someone would come for them; he couldn't understand what was taking them so long.
Meanwhile, on another plane that was landing, the High Demon known as both his demonic name, Belthazor, and then his human name, Cole Turner, shimmered into the landing plane. His body appearing with flames dancing about his form, the tall dark haired man instantly turning his attention towards the three occupants in the cabin. With but a simple flick of his wrists towards the two guards that stood up and reached for their weapons in both fear and panic towards this, who they thought to be a 'mutant' intruder, both men had two balls of intense hellfire slamming hard into their chest. Their whole body, engulfed instantly by the demonic flames of hell, turned into nothing more then a small residue of ashes where they once stood.
Being only half demon once lead so many to falsely assume Cole was of a weaker rank to others of his demonic kind, but soon he had proved otherwise, becoming one of the top Witch Hunters.. until they stripped him of his demonic strength in revenge for the blood he had spilled. But now, even if he did recently get his ability to turn into his demonic self once again, he was hardly going to change his style, running around drawing attention to himself was only going to make things difficult for those of more simple minds.
The High demon's attack was so silent that the old man who was sleeping from the long flight remained undisturbed, Cole gave an amused look at the human, so old and weak, hardly worth obtaining such priceless possessions as Connor and the other mutants rumored to have been collected for the auction. Cole gave a rather dismissive motion of his hand as he moved to the door of the plane; another ball of powerful fiery energy engulfed the sleeping man who remained blissfully unaware of the sudden death that had befallen him.
The brown eyes of the man glanced around the area, so empty compared to normal airports, and it was highly likely the others who he knew had landed so recently had no comprehension towards the creatures they were dealing with. Inside the plane, once sure that Cole had handled anyone who might have been of threat without them getting in his way, two other's appeared. Both stepping out of the plane as if they where his guards, when in truth they where nothing compared to his unlimited powers.
Spending a while in the demonic wastelands when the witches had tried to vanquish him enabled the already strong demon to gather even more powers from other vanquished demons that where sent there, killed by a creature that dwelled within the sand, he survived only for his human soul, his partly human body, and the fact he avoided the sand dwelling creature by staying on the rocks until he was powerful enough to escape the one place deemed inescapable for all hell spawn and its demonic kin.
The female stepped off the plane, her long wavy brown hair cascading down her slender darkly dressed form, the daughter of Emma Frost and Sebastian Shaw, now known as the Black Queen of the Hell Fire Club. The other man was nothing more then a demonic goon brought as a prop in order to fool others into thinking Cole was in need of his personal guards like any other human. Having to hide his black eyes behind a dark shade of glasses, plus his black skin and muscular build made him appear highly threatening, well.. to other humans he was, but for Cole, the guard was such a pathetic addition to his Lord Kayel's army.
When the dark limo pulled to a stop, Cole's eyes scanned the area, no one knew all of those who were coming, especially by faces, all they knew was that the plane Cole had gotten off was from an Australia airport in Sydney. Two men stepped out of the limo, the guard that was in the back seat with the barely conscious boy and then another who got out of the drivers passenger side. Both looked so smug, as if they thought they where in full control, if Lord Kayel had not demanded Cole to be discreet, the high demon would have merely killed these wretched mortals and taken what he had worked so hard to obtain in the past.. only to have those blasted X-men interfere.
Gwen Frost flashed both men an innocent smile, the Hell Fire Club, a secret and powerful mutant organization, didn't approve of mutants being treated in such a way, and yet at the same time, used this as a way of 'recruiting' new members. After all, if the HFC freed them from this abuse, wouldn't they feel obliged to stay with them, even possibly feel safe, and for once looked out for, watched over, protected.. so what if they had to do a few dirty jobs every now and then, most didn't care since it involved humans being the victims, and not always was the job bloody.
It was obvious they weren't going to be offered a seat in the limo until someone else they where waiting for arrived, the arrogance in their rude manner made it hard for Cole to urge the desire to destroy the foolish barbarians, meddling in things that were far over their heads. He forced a bitter sweet smile, barely tugging at the corner of his lips, his eyes soon moving away, staring at the limo.. knowing his pet project from earlier that year was sitting within, bound and gagged.
All they had to do was wait, so they waited for the others quietly, though Cole's patience at this time was running thin, he had things that he needed to set up, the demonic market needed to be prepared for the auction, amongst other things. The Center of Inquisition had already been arranged to hold the mutants, using A.Corp for this was far too risky, the X-men have already realized Cole's obsession with Connor and Madison.. with Wolverine and all his offspring, plus any other mutant, especially ones that had such amazing healing abilities as theirs. The fact Connor and Madison had both a healing factor and the ability to absorb other mutant abilities, even if it was just for a few hours, still made them powerful creatures, their potential was limitless.
Cole: I think you're confused.. you seem to think you have the upper hand
Re: 'Rumours of my death...'
*To be or not to be, that was definitely the question! *Michael looked down at his prone body and tried to decide what was his best course of action. He had felt the landing gear make contact with the tarmac and the plane glide to a halt. Now George and Brady were unfastening their seatbelts and getting ready to disembark.
Brady was busily occupied with his precious test samples carefully packed into containers in his briefcase. *That leaves George to collect me* thought Michael. *No doubt he’ll treat me with his usual brotherly love.* The thought of George manhandling his abused body out of the seat made Michael wince. It was going to hurt, no two ways about it. *Better stay out here* he decided. *Maybe I could take a look outside, see what’s waiting for me. They’ll think I’m still out from the drugs so I should be covered.*
Michael's invisible astral presence glided swiftly to the door of the plane. *Old habits die hard* he thought shaking his head. *I don’t really need to go through the door now do I! I can just slip through anywhere I please.* He passed easily through the metal infrastructure and took a moment to assess the situation before him.
Another similar aircraft was parked beside them on the airstrip, recently landed by the looks of things, the automatic steps not yet retracted, the door still open.Further off a large black limousine awaited. *Looks like we’ll be travelling first class* he thought to himself. He drifted closer to the parked vehicle.
Five people surrounded it. The two nearest the car he dismissed as the driver and the hired muscle. He may not have been involved in his brothers criminal activity but he had seen enough of their friends to recognise the type. No, the ones that interested him were the three standing apart, two men and a woman. *The buyers no doubt.* They had the look of wealth and power about them. The woman was beautiful, cool, aloof. The men looked more than capable of handling themselves in any situation.
The tall, dark haired man in the centre seemed decidedly annoyed. *He’s waiting for us* Michael suddenly realised. *He’s been kept waiting by a couple of second class Glasgow hoodlums and a crippled mutant. Oh he’s not going to be pleased about that. Not pleased at all. Well don’t blame me I’m only the package! George is the delivery boy! Take it up with him.*
Even in his astral form Michael didn’t like getting too close to them. They were there to buy and sell mutants, trading them like so much dead meat. Not nice people to be around and he didn’t intend to stay around them any longer than necessary. *Better see if I can locate the other mutants. Find out what kind of allies I might have out here.* He edged closer to the limousine and floated inside. There, on the back seat, a boy tied up and drugged by the looks of things. *Sounds familiar.*
*Ok lets see what we can do.* Michael took a closer look at the captive. *Hey I think he’s coming round! Lets just hope he doesn’t think he’s hallucinating when he sees Hood!* He checked the limousines windows. *Black tinted, great! Wouldn’t do to be seen by those outside. Now lets do this right.* Slowly he drained off more life energy from his physical body, giving substance to his astral form. He began to see the ghostlike outline of his hands take shape. No time to go any further, the others would be approaching any minute now.
He moved into the boys line of vision , watching his eyes widen in surprise as they focused upon him. Michael couldn’t even begin to imagine it must be like being confronted by a ‘ghost’ wearing leather armour, archers bracelets and carrying a long bow. Anyhow there was nothing Michael could do about that, it was just how things were, no point worrying about it now.
*It would be so much easier if I could talk to him* thought Michael. *Never mind we’ll have to make do with mime.* Sure now that the boy was looking at him, Michael pointed at his astral form. Then towards the plane. *Which of course he can’t see you idiot Oh this was never going to work!! Calm down, keep going.* He made a pillow of his hands and dropped his head on to it *See! I’m asleep! Outside!* Next he made little walking movements with his fingers and finally slumped on the seat beside the boy. *Great job! That was as clear as mud.* Michael thought in disgust. *He probably thinks he’s dealing with a complete lunatic.*
On some subconscious level he felt his body coming closer. *Time to go and see what's happening outside.* He flashed the boy what he hoped was a confident and encouraging grin *I’m take acting lessons if I ever get out of this alive* and, Cheshire cat like, faded away.
Re: 'Rumours of my death...'
Mutants.. Connor could feel their powers nearby, at first he had gotten excited.. well, as excited as a drugged and tied up captive of mutant selling trades men could be any way. His blue eyes, a striking colour, unlike the shade they had once been when he was younger, now they seemed to burst with deep ocean blue colour that was the result of yet another experiment, causing the odd side effect in his eyes and yet also enhancing their already superior ability of sight.
Upon his eyes opening, a ghostly image was seen before him, at first he was scared that someone was about to take him off into one of those horrible little cells, his claustrophobia couldn't take any more small areas! But then when he focused as best he could with the drugs being hastily fought off by his enhanced system, Connor realized that there was a guy... a faint image of one any way.. It was staring at him.. why was there an oddly dressed see-through man staring trying to get his attention!? Connor just figured it was something to do with the drugs, but still.. he would like to know how his mind came up with this archer dressed figure? Any other time he would consider it humorous, but right now he felt too ill to be smug about it.
It started motioning with his hands, the ghostly image pointing to himself, Connor now only giving the 'hallucination' half his attention. But then he pointed outside of the car, towards the direction both mutant powers where coming from, if Connor had been more himself he would have easily picked up the use of a mutant power being the source of this image, but his abilities and senses where poor at best right now. After a few more signals, one of which seemed to hint the illusion was sleepy.. or.. something.. the image then drifted off, leaving the car and once again leaving Connor all alone, though not without first flashing him a comforting smile. Even if it wasn't real, Connor wished it would stay, he hated being on his own, but then again he should be used to it by now.. it always seemed to end up with him being alone without anyone to help him until it's usually too late and the damage had been done.
To make things worse, whenever the feral started clearing his mind from the drugs, his claustrophobia would react to the confines of not only being captive inside the limo, but being tied up, thus making it all seem so much smaller and making it difficult for him to breath while his panic would start to kick in. That's when they knew he was coming out of it, but they thought he was just scared of his situation, they where too stupid to realize it was something else he was afraid of.
"So good of you to join us." Belthazor spoke out towards the others arriving, though his tone implied his impatience, and if there was one thing that Cole wasn't fond of, it was when others kept him waiting while he had other more important things to do. "You all may go on without me, I have my own transport there, I should also like to pick up something before getting to the center." Cole gave a slight motion of his arm, allowing it to point out Gwen who offered the new male arrivals a charming smile with her ruby red lips. Strips of her hair where blonde, easily stranding out against the brown, the wavy strands seeming to sit upon her shoulders and down her back with a perfection only obtained by the most meticulous of grooming tactics.
"Jessica here shall be my eyes and ears on your journey," Gwen smiled , though inwardly scolded indignantly towards such a name, she was very proud of who she was, and hated the need to hide themselves just because they where lowlife humans in over their heads.
"Pleasure," The falsely named woman replied in her sweet, yet almost seducing, voice, her bright eyes scanning over their forms before focusing on the mutant boy in their possession. "He doesn't look too well," Gwen added in a thoughtful tone, but Cole hardly cared, replying rather dismissively to her statement.
"Not even an idiot would desire to sell something that wouldn't last till at least after the auction my dear," Cole glanced towards Michael's brother, George, offering a rather malicious little smile as he added, "Especially this group, the appear to value their lives." Cole impatiently glanced at the watch on his wrist and then opened the door fore Gwen and the other's to enter. "After you then," Connor shut his eyes tightly against the light that flooded into the limo when the door was open, Gwen climbed in first and took a seat opposite to Connor, looking rather delighted despite the suffering about her while she waited for the others to enter.
The first step to forgiveness is telling the truth.
Re: 'Rumours of my death...'
Michael floated free of the car, drifting hurriedly back towards the plane and its emerging figures. He saw his brother half drag, half carry his inert form from the aircraft.
A wave of hatred swept over him provoked by the casual cruelty he witnessed. His shattered right leg trailed stiff and useless behind him, bumping down the steps and scraping over the tarmac. George knew how difficult it had been for him, learning to walk again after the accident. Now he was undoing all of that hard work with his callous and uncaring treatment. *I hope you rot in hell*Michael thought, imagining what it would feel like when he reintegrated his body.
Every fibre of his being urged him not to do so. *Just stay out here, it doesn’t matter anymore. It was stupid to think you could get out of this.* Let them try to sell a dead body if they liked He had had enough.
But he wasn’t alone. If he gave up now then what would happen to the other mutant. Ok maybe he wasn’t in any condition to help, maybe he would be more of a burden than anything else, but he had said that he would at least be there. That the other boy wouldn’t have to go through the ordeal alone. He had given his word, unspoken certainly but none the less binding and he wouldn’t go back on it.
George and Brady had reached the other group of buyers "So good of you to join us." he heard the dark haired man say, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You all may go on without me, I have my own transport there, I should also like to pick up something before getting to the centre." George barely glanced at him his eyes riveted on the slender form of the woman taking in her full body, her red lips, the seductive smile that played around her mouth. "Jessica here shall be my eyes and ears on your journey," the man continued
Jessica looked at George the way a cat looked at a mouse just before it pounced. "Pleasure," she said her voice low and seductive. George doesn’t stand a chance thought Michael . "He doesn't look too well," he heard her say *That’s me they’re talking about and they are right. Maybe they’ll decide I’m not worth the trouble and just call the deal off right here and now.* Part of him wanted desperately for this to happen. He had used up almost all his reserves of courage just to get himself this far. It wouldn’t be his fault if they drove off and left him here. He would have tried his best.
But he knew in his heart that it wasn’t going to happen. And besides he had to help the other boy. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he just let the car drive off without trying something. *Try staying conscious then. Try not to scream when the pain comes back*" Not even an idiot would desire to sell something that wouldn't last till at least after the auction my dear," "Especially this group, they appear to value their lives."
So the leader of the group had spotted the explosives. He seems to find them more amusing than anything else Michael remarked. *Probably a bad sign. Correction another bad sign.*
'After you then.' The tall man opened the car door, waiting for the woman to enter. *I’ve got to do it now, got to go back down and accept the consequences.* With something close to a sob he plunged back into his body.
The pain was overwhelming. *Nothing is worth this, nothing in the world.* Far away he heard someone cry out. *That's me*he thought. *Managed not to scream at least. But I think I will pass out. Please, let me pass out!*
He had been thrown onto the back seat beside the other boy his leg twisted and awkward beneath him. The voices seemed far away, the pain filling every part of his consciousness. *It’s just not possible for something to hurt this much, it’s not fair.* But then life seldom was, at least not these days. Not very fair on the other mutant either. *I promised him some kind of super hero and all he gets is a snivelling wreck. Sorry! So very sorry!* He felt himself slipping of into darkness.
Re: 'Rumours of my death...'
The knee high black boots and short leather skirt really made Gwen appear a rather easy target for male's, her long leather gloves however where also lined with a special cloth that negated her high voltage output for anyone who tries to touch her. Any males who try and flirt by unwontedly invading her personal space where in for a shock of a life time once they get a charge of electrical currents pulsating through their bodies.
Her dark stockings where no help to stop the skin beneath from electrifying any who dared touch her, but the specially lined leather clothing helped keep those around her safe. As captivating as she could be, so highly flirtatious at most times, no one but her mother has ever been able to touch her, and even then Emma Frost had to be in her diamond form to hold her.
For almost the entire trip, once she had studied Connor and Michael to satisfy her curiosity, Gwen kept her eyes focused on George, just because she could not be with men in the way they prefer, did not mean she didn't enjoy toying with their minds and feelings a little, just for her own amusement.
Gwen: (to a noisy Angel) Geez. Where were you when they taught stealth in superpower school?
(falling into Angel's arms) I did that on purpose.
Angel: That's pretty pathetic.
Gwen: (coyly) If it's a lie or if it's the truth?
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