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Bellwether
By : Nemain
Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > General
Views: 4549 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men Evolution, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story. -
Chapter List
- 1-Bellwether
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 14-14
- 15-15
- 16-16
- 17-17
- 18-18
- 19-19
- 20-20
- 21-21
- 22-22
- 23-23
- 24-24
- 25-25
- 26-26
- 27-27
- 28-28
- 29-29
- 30-30
- 31-31
- 32-32
- 33-33
- 34-35
- 35-36
- 36-36
- 37-37
- 38-38
- 39-39
- 40-40
- 41-41
- 42-42
- 43-44
- 44-45
- 45-46
- 46-47
- 47-48
- 48-49
- 49-50
- 50-51
- 51-52
- 52-53
- 53-54
- 54-Epilogue
- 55-Epilogue
- Bellwether Chapter Eighteen
Disclaimers ApplyA/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… I dub thee Goddess of Chocolate. J InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, Dracena and Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting. J ProPhile: I think I fixed the cropping issue. Morgan: *stalkpounce * Readers/Reviewers: *happy pagan dance for reading/reviewing * J
Wanda kicked off her high heels with a sigh and a groan. She hated the damned things but whenever she wore that particular pair, her tips increased by ten percent. _Men, _ she thought bitterly, _are simple creatures. Wave tits in their face and they’ll give you anything. _ It was not even two in the morning yet but the club was already closing down. It had been a slow night—the sixteenth in a row since the new, brightly lit, porno mag[1] themed club opened just outside of town, on the road to Applewhite. “Guess the barely legal shit isn’t working anymore,” she commented to the other two dancers shedding their skimpy garments in the small dressing area.
“Honey, nothing’s working anymore,” the bottle blonde whom Wanda only knew as Star, yawned. She cast a jaundiced eye at Wanda’s discarded shoes and added, “Those things will give you killer calf muscles but they’re hell on your arches.”
“Thanks for the newsflash,” Wanda groaned good naturedly. She hated the job when she first took it but over the months, she had fallen into a comfortable routine. She would do her numbers, take her smoke breaks, bitch and moan with the other dancers, go home to Tabby. The only difference of late was Tabby. She was not the same woman she had been in the early months. Since Lucas had been returned, she was withdrawn, shaken, easily startled and such a shell of her former self that Wanda feared she would shatter into a million pieces of touched wrong. Lucas was toddling along, bubbling new words and almost words, chewing on everything in sight and creating splatter art on the walls with his (generally highly mushed) food. Life was almost good. Almost. With another yawn, Wanda tugged on her heavy black jeans, reaching for her old sneakers that she tended to wear all the time she was not working now, just to give her feet a rest from confined spaces. “Think they’re gonna close us down?”
“Nah,” the other dancer, a red head who reminded Wanda forcibly of Jean and who went by the name Bambi, opined. “People will get tired of that shit soon enough and come back to slum it with us.” She winked broadly at Wanda, running an appreciative gaze over the younger woman’s still-bare torso. “Those clubs are eye candy. Look but don’t touch, big dance shows with fake tits and faker tans.” Bambi, who would have been mortified if any of the other dancers knew she had a PhD in comparative literature and could recite the entire first chapter of Pantagruel[2] in the original French, stretched seductively and made sure Wanda got an eyeful of her nude body, still bearing streaks of glitter gel that had not been sweated off. “We serve a purpose in the world, Scarlet,” she added, using the only name she knew Wanda by. “We’re the dirty little secrets.”
Wanda snorted, shouldering her backpack and making sure her thrifted bowling shirt was buttoned over her chest. “You don’t know the half of it.” Tossing a wave over her shoulder at the other two dancers, she shoved the heavy metal door open and stepped out into the dark alley running behind the club. She had left the car with Tabby, just in case, but she did not mind. They only lived a few miles away. Close enough to the grocery store and work so that she did not have to leave Tabby alone very long, not long enough to really get panicky anyway. The alley was short, a Dumpster[3] on one end, the other end leading onto Euclid, one of the main streets through Bayville. Her sneakers rendering her steps no more than dull thuds in the narrow alley, Wanda hurried towards the yellowy streetlight at the corner.
“Scarlet Witch.”
Wanda’s steps stilled and she dropped her bag from her shoulder as she turned to face the source of the voice. She wanted her hands free for fighting; anyone who knew her by that name was not paying a social call. A woman stepped out of the inky dark behind the strip club and for one moment, Wanda nearly unleashed her powers at will, the sight startled her so badly. Covered in boney protrusions, the scowling female was a fearsome sight, enough to make even the Scarlet Witch take a step back. “What?”
“You are the daughter of Magneto. You are allied with the Xavier mutants.” Marrow walked forward steadily, her voice not questioning but rather stating facts. “You follow your own path.”
“Thanks for the recap, lady, but this is getting old real fast…” She curled her hands into fists, trying to decide what the best way to hurt this woman would be when the time came.
Marrow stopped, swallowing so hard that it was practically a gulp. “I require aide. The Morlocks require aide…” She straightened her spine and tipped her chin defiantly, daring Wanda with her gaze.
“Uh, fantastic. Good luck with that.” She took a step backwards and scooped up her backpack. “You try to get me from behind, I’m taking your head off.”
Marrow moved quickly, grabbing Wanda’s arm before she could take more than two steps. “Listen to me…there is a massacre afoot and I…” she paused, inhaling deeply, “and I am the only one that can stop it! Xavier is gone and there is no one at the Institute I can contact for help! They praise their open mindedness but they’re just as disgusted by us as the worst non mutant!”
Wanda eyed the boney hand on her elbow with a narrow-eyed glare. “If you’re the only one who can stop it, then stop it.” Shrugging her touch away, Wanda turned and resumed her trek to Euclid Street. “I’m not one of them. I’m not for hire.”
“Your father brought Essex down on us,” Marrow shouted. “If we die, I will see to it that you die with us!”
“Essex?” A tight, icy fist clutched at Wanda’s bowels. She was a little girl again, sitting at the big table an Transia[4], listening to the housekeeper sing some old song in a language she never thought to use now that she was in the states. Essex had sat across from her, across from her father, talking in low tones. Essex had suggested the special school, the place where they raped her mind, the place where they bound her body and soul. The place that broke her into fragments and put her back together all wrong. She turned slowly, wanting to vomit. “Come with me. I’m not gonna talk about this in the street.”
[1] Vaguely similar to those Hustler and Playboy clubs in big cities these days *eye roll * Just spend the money on the magazine. Same effect, less money and less likely to get you busted in a vice raid.
[2] http://www.gutenberg.org/catalog/world/readfile?fk_files=90155&pageno=2 Seriously, Pantagruel and Gargantua are great sociopolitical works. And they’re really smutty. ;)
[3] It’s a proper name! Really! It’s a trademark.
[4] Comic-verse, the Maximoffs are from Transia. At least that’s where Wanda and Pietro were born. Fictional location in Eastern Europe. - You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
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