“It is indeed good to see you again, my friend,” Storm comments with a warm smile in my direction.
“It’s good to see you, too. I gotta say, just being able to sit down and talk with friends without having to run off to fight some group of Ninja or other trouble-maker does wonders for the soul,” I answer, returning the smile.
Banshee grins. “Aye, the X-Men can sympathize with ye on that.”
I take a sip of my iced tea as I listen to Sean’s brogue and nod in agreement.
Just then, Scott, a.k.a. Cyclops, steps in with a tall, muscular black man. They’re both in uniform, Cyclops bears a serious expression on his face, as he most often does. Impossibly, though, the man standing by him has an even more grave look. I wonder if something unpleasant has happened. I stand.
“HLM, good to know you’re still in one piece,” Cyc comments, shaking my hand and favoring me with a rare smile.
I grin. “Gotta say, it’s good to still BE in one piece.”
Scott grins again, and continues, “I’d like you to meet a member and friend of the X-Men. This is Bishop. Bishop, this is HLM.”
As I shake his large hand. I note the suspicion in his eyes.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” I say, trying to lighten the mood a little.
Man, this dude must be a real wet towel at parties.
“Likewise. You’re the result of government experimentation?”
I blink. “You sure don’t fool around do you? Yeah, I am.”
He nods, and an uncomfortable silence drops like a slab of cement. As usual, I feel as if I’m the cause. I notice Scott looking at me oddly, even though it’s hard to tell anything about the brown haired man’s expression because of the ruby visor covering half his face.
“What? Did I spill my drink on myself or something?” I ask with a slightly uneasy grin.
He shakes his head. “No, have you dyed your hair? If I recall correctly, didn’t it used to be reddish blond?”
I grin, only now realizing just how long it’s been since he last saw me. “Not exactly. My new look is thanks to that unstable mutation thing,” I take off my shades and grin slightly at Cyc’s dropped jaw. “Same deal with my oh so enchanting eyes.”
I look back at Sean when I hear his amused chuckle.
“I have to hand it to ye, lass, not many people can shock Scott into silence like that,” he says with another chuckle.
I grin. “I do try my best.”
Cyclops clears his throat, and I turn back to him and Bishop.
“We were thinking that tonight we can test your combat limits if you’re feeling up to it.”
I shrug. “Why not? The sooner we start these blasted tests, the sooner we can get done with them.”
“Let’s get you suited up then.”
I raise a brow. “I thought you knew that I fight in jeans and a t-shirt.”
Cyclops grins. “That’s why we keep spare uniforms around.”
I wrinkle my nose. “You’re gonna make me wear one of those blue and yellow spandex things? Yellow REALLY isn’t one of my better colors.”
Storm chuckles. “Oh don’t worry, we think you will like what we had made up for you.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I comment uncertainly.
Doubtfully, I look at myself in the mirror. The costume they had made up for me is a skin tight, black and red cat suit that seems to be molded after training gis seen in dojos across the world. Where those gis are loose, white, usually cotton and have pants held up by ties and the jacket held shut with ties and/or a belt, this costume is, as before mentioned, tight, flowing over my body like a second skin, made of some kind of unstable molecule that flexes and bends impossibly, and the whole ensemble is slid into. It stays in place by sheer tightness. I tug on the matching gloves, which have holes for my claws to go through while looking at my reflection. Storm comes up behind me, and I grin wryly at her in the mirror.
“What do you think?” she asks, as she hands me the belt: the final touch.
“I think the guys are going to like it more than I do,” I answer, clasping the belt around my waist. “This sucker hugs curves I didn’t even know I have!”
She chuckles softly, then looks concerned. “If you do not like it…”
“Oh!” I turn and gently place my hands on the taller woman’s shoulders. “That’s not what I meant! I do like it and I thank you for putting it together for me. It’ll just take some getting used to is all,” I tell her with a smile.
She smiles and gives me a brief hug. “I am glad then.”
“You know, Ororo, we really aught to go out on the town together again, along with Jean. It feels like eons since the last time I got to have a girls’ night out on the town with you two.”
She nods. “It has indeed and perhaps we can convince Rogue to join us.”
I blink. It takes me a moment to link a face with the name; I’d only met her once, after all. “Yeah, she seemed like a fun person, too.”
At that moment, there’s a knocking on the door, and Beast’s muffled voice floats through the wood. “Are you ladies finished aesthetically improving you countenances? Not that that impossible labor is need of course; us gentle-mutants are eagerly awaiting your radiant returns.”
I grin and open the door to face the ever-grinning Beast. “Flattery, my friend, will get you everything.”
“Oh my. My Moronic Lady, that ensemble is very suiting for your various, ahem, assets.”
I laugh. “Why, Bones! How very unprofessional of you!”
He and Storm chuckle with me as we make our way to the Danger Room. “Why, Ms. Moron! When have I ever known you to want to be professional?”
“Hmm, let me think, Dr. McCoy. Uhm…never?” I grin as we join the others in the room.
At the moment, the Danger Room doesn’t seem all that dangerous; its current form is nothing more than a big empty changer.
“Well, it sure is big…”
Cyclops nods. “It doesn’t look like much now,” he says, as Beast hooks up electrodes to my chest, neck, head and wrists, “but that’s only because there aren’t any programs running. Those electrodes Hank is hooking up to you will measure your brainwave activity, pulse, breathing and blood pressure, and transmit the readings to the computer for later analysis.”
“Ok, what will you have me doing? What are we testing tonight?” I ask, examining an electrode on the underside of my wrist before tugging my glove over it. Where a sire would usually connect to the electrode, there are instead bits of look like circuitry.
“We’re first going to run a program to test your endurance and stamina. Your objective will be to reach the top of the mountain as fast as you can. The rest of us will be in the control room monitoring your progress.”
“What mountain?” I ask, confused.
“You’ll see,” he answers with a grin. With that, the group leaves me alone in the room.
In a few moments, Cyclops’s voice booms from the hidden speakers. “Ready?”
“Any time you are.”
Between one moment and another, I’m seemingly transported to the foot of a huge forested mountain.
“YEESH! Guess Wolvie helped with this program,” I murmur as I start into the forest at top speed.
To be honest, I’m more used to fleeing from hostile adults and teenagers toting overly large weapons, or going on training runs with the guys and Splinter through the sewers or over the rooftops than running through this lovely forested landscape.
Hmm, I think, I’ll have to see if I can con Raph and the rest into a hiking trip in the Adirondacks some time.
Putting my thoughts aside, I concentrate on reaching the top in record time, just enjoying the landscape. I revel in the feeling of my toned muscles rippling under my skin.
An hour and a half later, I reach the top of the mountain panting and drenched in sweat. I bend to massage a cramped muscle in my leg and look around. I regret not taking a break.
“Ok, I’m here; now what? Do I fight Bambi or something?”
“Nope, Darlin’, now you ‘n me dance,” a familiar, gruff voice says, just before the owner of that voice leaps out of the trees to try to tackle me, claws first.
“Ack!” I exclaim, diving to the side, rolling to my feet in the rocky soil and unsheathing my claws. “K, if you insist, let’s waltz,” I grin challengingly.
He grins right back, and the fight is on.
He ducks down, and his foot shoots out to snag mine and drag me down. I leap up, avoiding his leg, and leapfrog over his head, careful not to cut him with my claws. He spins, and our fists fly fast and furious at each other; both of us enjoying having a sparring partner who’s able to handle each other’s lethal claws. He throws a sudden kick at my head; I move to the side and grab his leg. I fall back and throw him back over me. He goes tumbling into the forest, and I pursue him. Stopping short, I look around, trying to figure out where he got off to. My unvoiced question is answered when a weight lands on my back, knocking me to the ground.
I turn under him, grab the front of his uniform and forcefully change positions with him, a mad grin on my face.
This is FUN!
We both freeze when we hear a low canine growl. We look up into the glowing eyes of about three different half-wolf, half-human creatures.
Part One
Part Three
Mind Index