(NOTE: {words} = sounds)
. . .SUCH MEN ARE DANDEROUS
PART ONE
"Everyone clear out! The reactor’s gonna blow!!!"
{ZZZEEEEE – CLANG!}
{ZZZEEEEE – CLANG!}
Large metal walls were sliding down, closing off the long corridor the X-Men were trying to escape from. The team was barely through each section as each thick barrier dropped.
They had almost reached the open exit when Marrow, who had injured her leg in the battle, fell.
Without a thought, Storm flew back to get her. The large metal door between them was halfway down when she reached Marrow. Instinctively, Storm grabbed the girl’s arm and threw her towards the narrow escape. Sara bounced and slide-rolled under the opening an instant before it slammed shut.
"Storm!"
Several of the X-Men turned back, or at least tried to go back and release her from behind the new wall.
A strong gust of wind, stopped them, picked up Marrow and the rest of the team up and effectively shot them out of the open end of the corridor.
The wind continued to carry them away from the compound until it exploded. The wind died and the X-Men fell to the desert sands below. Although they were now over a kilometer away, the force of the blast rolled them over and over like the grains of sand that surrounded them.
"Jean… you pickin’ up anything?"
Wolverine knew it was a pointless question but he felt he needed to ask, just as Phoenix felt she needed to search for the thought patterns of her closest friend. She stretched her mind to the point of actual physical pain. It was showing on her face. Cyclops, Jean’s husband, put a hand on her shoulder. Kneeling in the sand, she opened her eyes and looked up at him. Her eyes tearing up, she shook her head, unable to speak the words.
The group stayed there silently watching the fire for an untold amount of time.
Cyclops recalled the Blackbird, which had been stealthily hovering nearby, by remote. The X-Men slowly boarded the craft, some lingering behind.
Sam Guthrie walked over to Marrow. She had been quietly sitting in front of the group, her back to them watching the flames. Cannonball touched her arm. She violently shook it off.
"Don’t touch me!" she snapped.
Sam looked towards Wolverine for help.
The rugged man motioned with his head that Sam should join the others.
When it was just the two of them left on the sand, Logan approached Marrow, but said nothing.
They remained as such for several minutes.
"Stupid Windrider." Sara finally muttered. "Weak and pathetic. Too stupid to save her own life."
"Cause she had t’save yours."
"Well, NOBODY ASKED HER!"
"Nobody had to."
"Then why the hell’d she do it?!"
Logan shook his head slightly. "Storm don’t—didn’t do nuthin’ without a reason. If she saved ya, it means she thought yer life was worth somethin’."
"Why? I went outta my way t’make her life miserable. Why?"
"S’good question. Why don’t ya think ‘bout the answer—on the way home. C’mon, kid."
She sat there a moment longer, before grudgingly following his back to the Blackbird.
* * * * *
Everything hurt.
Her arms, her legs, her head—she was even convinced that her hair hurt.
Eyes still closed, she took stock of her surroundings. She was in a bed in a small, sanitized room. She could tell these things by the sound of the air moving along the walls, and the smell of the antiseptic.
There was something sticking in her left hand… an I.V., she suspected. She was on oxygen, as well. Her senses also told that she was not alone in that room. There was someone sitting silently to her right. He (she assumed "he" by his apparently large size) was in a relaxed state. Not usually an indication of danger.
Her eyelids ached as she slowly opened them and blinked a few times. She painfully rolled her eyes to her right. The large man in the chair had his arms folded and his head down. His eyes were closed.
The woman tried adjusting her position in the bed and regretted it. She let out a loud gasp and closed her eyes as her body racked with a new serge of pain.
A hand gripped her right arm.
"Easy Sweets, not so fast."
"Wha—Where am I? What happened?"
"Yer safe. We can deal with what happened later."
"Where am I?"
"Yer home, Sweets. Ain’t no one gonna hurt ya here."
"Home?"
Her pressed a button on the wall.
"The doc didn’t think it’d be safe t’give ya any more painkillers till ya woke up. You’ been out almost three weeks now. Ya nearly scarred the shit out of me Ro."
She mouthed the last word he'd said to herself. "Why did you call me that?"
"What? Ro?"
"Yes."
"…Cause it’s yer name."
"My name?"
"...Ya don’t know yer own name?"
"…"
"Ororo. Ororo Monroe. Ya gotta know yer own name!"
"I-I… It is—familiar, but…"
"Shit!" The man muttered. "Was afraid o’this. Where’s that damn doc?!"
He turned to walk towards the door.
"Wait!"
He stopped.
"Who are you?"
"… Naw, guess you wouldn’t remember who I was neither."
He walked around the bed and picked up her left hand with his, displaying a gold band around one of her fingers.
"I’m yer husband Ro. Just over three years now."
"H-husband--?"
"Yeah." He nodded.
"The name’s Victor.
“Victor Creed.”
To Be Continued…
Ain’t I a devil?! What
do ya think? stormgates@hotmail.com