Note: "words" = flashback
…SUCH MEN ARE DANGEROUS
PART FOUR
"STORM… MOVE IT!"
"LOGA—!!! Goddess!"
Ororo sat up in bed, her dream cutting short. She covered her face with her hand and tried to recall what she had seen.
A woman-- with red hair. Someone she thought she could trust. She was throwing—a blade—a large hunting knife at her—she was trying to kill her. Why? Someone to her left yelled. A rough harsh voice. He jumped in front of her, knocking her back—and taking the knife in the chest. Was he killed? She could not remember. The dream had ended there, abruptly. The images, though she tried to hold on, were quickly fading from her mind, as was the name she had begun to let escape from her lips.
She threw the covers back and walked over to the en suite balcony. The air that morning was still. With a thought, Ororo caused a swirling wind to rush up the side of the building, carrying the fresh scent of her roses with it. She did not remember planting those roses or any of the other plants or flowers that lined their property. She had no memory of the large greenhouse out back that was flush with vegetation. But Victor had insisted that it was her skilled hand that had brought these plants to bloom, and she happily spent many hours each day, creating new memories.
Ororo inhaled deeply but stopped in mid breath.
‘No pain!’ She thought. ‘No aches!’
She opened and closed her hands several times before longingly stretching her arms above her head. She smiled. For the first time in three months, Ororo had woken up with no noticeable pains. She had been well enough over the last several weeks, to move about the house and the grounds. But Victor, ever the protective spouse, wanted her to remain at home where Dr. Stevens would always be nearby—just in case. She promised him she would take it easy and not use her powers to any great extent, until she was as he put it, a hundred percent.
She hugged her arms around herself and used her winds to lift herself up off the third story balcony and land gently in the garden below. She sat down on a soft patch of grass surrounded by red roses and hibiscus plants. As she looked around herself she suddenly wished to share her tranquility. She wished Victor would join her to partake of the morning air. And although her instincts told her, the man she loved understood the importance of nature’s beauty, she was beginning to get the distinct impression that Victor was not such a man.
"Ya gotta let nature seep into ya…" She shook her head. ‘Whose voice is that?’
* * * * *
"Alla this better be damn well worth it." Sabretooth grumbled as he pulled on his jacket.
"Sir?"
"This Mr. NiceGuy shit! It’s makin’ me sick."
"Well, Sir…"
"Shut the fuck up, Spike! I gotta get outta here fer awhile. Gotta get some action goin’. Keep an eye on h--."
Sabretooth looked towards the open bay doors of his office, just in time to see Ororo floating down from above. "Where the hell’d she get that?!"
Ororo was in her nightclothes—what there was of them. She was wearing a mostly sheer, white negligée, which was very alluring.
"I believe Kesh bought it for her—as per your instructions. –You do remember telling her to supply Ms. Monroe with a full wardrobe?"
"But that?!"
"Well, from what we could pull together from Ms. Monroe’s memory, this type of garment is more along the lines of what she would wear at night—if anything at all."
Sabretooth narrowed his eyes but never took them from Ororo’s form.
"You screwin’ with me, Spike?"
"I am not now, nor have I ever been suicidal…uh, sir."
"Get the hell outta here. I’ll be back tonight."
Steven’s quickly made his way to the out the room as Sabretooth walked towards the garden doors.
Her back to him, Ororo gathered her hair up into a bun, then thought the better of it, releasing the hair to fall gently down the length of her back. She sat down.
‘Great. As if she ain’t makin’ my life hard enough as it its. Now she’s gotta walk around in shit like that! And I can’t do a damn thing about it, ‘less I wanna screw up this whole operation.’
"Ro?"
Storm had her knees drawn up to her chest. She looked up and smiled at him.
"Good morning, Victor. Did you sleep well?"
Being the gentleman that he was, once Ororo was up to leaving the infirmary, he had generously moved out of the master bedroom so that she could have it. He claimed it was for her own comfort. She should not have to sleep in a room—in a bed with a man she could not remember.
"Just fine, Sweets. You flew down here?"
"Do not be cross. I feel wonderful. I am in no pain. I have not felt this good since… well since as long as I can remember—which in truth is only about three months, but none the less, the pain is gone."
"Still, I don’t want you over doin’ it. Not just yet anyway." ‘Don’t want you flyin’ off where someone might recognize you. Not just yet.’
"I will not. I promise. …You are going out?" She stood up.
"Never been much of a homebody, Sweets. Gotta get out every now and again. I’ll be back tonight. I’m goin’ huntin’."
‘Huntin’----Huntin’----Huntin’----’
"I said huntin, honey-bunch—nothin’ about killin’. It takes no skill to kill. What takes skill is sneakin’ up close to a skittish doe to touch her—that’s huntin’."
"Ororo!"
"What?! Oh. I am—sorry, Victor. I-I believe I may have been having—some sort of – flashback. But I cannon recall whom it is that is speaking. A voice—a picture is there—and then it is gone, and I cannot remember it." She shook her head. I shall be all right. Go—go and enjoy your hunt. I wish you luck."
He wasn’t expecting that reaction. What he knew about Storm told him that she valued the sanctity of life above all else.
"You ain’t upset?
She smiled. "If you are back in less than a day, I would consider that early. Of course I would not be upset. You are usually gone for days or weeks at a time."
‘She must be rememberin’ the runt, but applyin’ it t’me. Good job, Spike. Maybe I’ll kill you later than sooner.’
"I better get goin’. You promise t’take it easy?"
"I swear it." And as if by instinct, she leaned forward and kissed Victor on the cheek. As she drew back, she covered her mouth in surprise, then smiled shyly. "Go and return." She said softly.
Sabretooth nodded and made his leave, still dealing with the unexpectedness of the kiss. Ororo went back to her plants with the comforting, albeit mistaken thought that Victor Creed was concerned for her welfare, when in truth, he was concerned only with the stability of his plan.
* * * * *
"Wolvie…I’m pregnant."
"WHAT?!? WHATTHEHELLDOYOUMEANYOU’REPR--"
"Hold it! Hold it! Kidding! Kidding! Kidding! I just wanted t’get ya riled!"
Logan spoke through gritted teeth into the phone.
"JUBILATION LEE--"
‘Uh-oh. The full name!’
"Do not EVER joke about something like that."
"Well, I had t’say something! Since Storm—since the accident, you’ve been acting like an old man!"
"I am an old man!"
"But you never acted like it. I heard you’ve been mopping around that place avoiding everyone, not even going on missions anymore! You’re shutting down Wolvie. I can’t let that happen. Storm wouldn’t want that t’happen. Where’s the Wolvie that we both loved?!?"
He could hear the tension in her throat, though she tried to hide it. The kind of tension that comes when you’re trying to stop your voice from cracking. To stop yourself from crying.
"Jubilee… I’m okay."
"No—you’re—not!"
"…{Sigh} No, I’m not. I miss her, kid."
"It’s okay to miss her. It’s not okay to stop living. Ya gotta let it go Wolvie. You have to let her go. Not forget her—just let her go."
"…When the hell’d you get so insightful."
"Oh, here and there. It pays to know stuff when you’re gonna be a mom."
"Would'ja stop with the baby stuff! I’m riled already!"
"Hey, that’s what ya keep me around for, right?"
* * * * *
"Damages from this latest confrontation with outlaw band of mutants is estimated around seven million dollars.
"In other news, police have issued a warning to residents of the Greystone region. Three mangled bodies were found today with in a six-mile radius of each other. While names are being withheld until family notification, police are saying that the victims, all men, were apparently attacked by some sort of large predatory animal. A curfew has been initiated in the Greystone area until further notice."
"Goddess…"
From the shadows of the doorway, Sabretooth watched his wife observing the evening news. He smiled as the grim-faced reporter detailed his handy work. When he told Ororo that he was going hunting, he hadn’t said for what—or for whom.
"Ro?"
"Victor. I did not here you come in."
"Somethin’ wrong?"
She sadly shook her head. "More death and destruction in the world. An animal has killed three people. That mutant group you told me about… the X-Men. They are causing more trouble. During one of their conflicts today, they destroyed a large portion of Madison Avenue."
"They’re real trouble, that bunch. How may people got hurt this time?"
"There were no viable casualties."
"That’s a change. They usually fill up the emergency rooms with their fighting. This dream thing they follow… it’s their mission in life. But they don’t give a damn who gets hurt along the way."
"How could people such as these every think that I would willingly join them?"
"Don’t know." He shrugged. "‘Nite."
‘Soon.’
"Oh, how did you fair today?"
"Funniest thing. ‘Couldn’t find a single animal out there to hunt."
To Be Continued…
Speak! stormgates@hotmail.com