Mirror, Mirror

Mirror Mirror Chapter Twenty Two
Disclaimers Apply


A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… *GLOMP* InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, Dracena and Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting.  ProPhile: How does six sound? Readers/Reviewers: Foxy has RL things going on so can’t beta for a few days. I’m sending out today’s chapter unbeta’d and might skip tomorrow and do one Wednesday so she won’t be flooded by my posts, lol. But the story will be updated one way or another…

Mystique rolled her eyes at Sabretooth and wished silently for a Taser or a tranquilizer dart of some sort. “If you don’t sit down,” she finally snapped, “I will break your knees.”
Sabretooth snarled at her, a full throated sound that rattled the thin glasses on the sideboard. He did not resume pacing however. He took up a stance near the door, his hands folded behind his back in some odd butler-like posture. “Bitch,” he muttered, not looking at her.
“Guilty,” she shrugged. Essex’s holding cell was done up to look like an expensive drawing room—all dark hardwoods and high polish, pricey rugs and art. Only a practiced eye could pick out the heavy duty security measures in the space. The windows were not regular glass but a substance virtually unbreakable by any means they had at hand. Complicated electronics buoyed alarms triggered by the slightest touch, covering the windows and single door. The walls and door were metal, covered in thin wood veneer. Mystique found that out when she tried to kick the door open an hour before. Her heel ached and she wondered if she had broken her foot as she glared balefully at the exit, Sabretooth’s bulk blocking most of her view. Essex had left them there, told them to wait until his associate was ready. Well, Mystique thought bitterly, his associate can kiss their asses. “Listen to me, Viktor,” she said softly, using his real name, “do as I say and we leave here tonight. Fuck up and I’ve got a new fur rug in my room.”
Sabretooth bared his teeth but did not respond verbally. He shot a look past her shoulder to the small painting near a window. It was wired for sound, he had noticed. The faint hum of the device had drawn his attention almost instantly and a quick examination had proved his theory.
Mystique nodded and began pacing herself, her eyes scanning the room once more for any detail she might have missed. Satisfied they would not be overheard if she was careful, she sidled up to Sabretooth and put her arms around his neck. She felt him tense but she did not let her body language speak irritation at his actions. “Listen to me well,” she murmured, her lips brushing his ear. “Essex will not send us off to some mutant farm where we’re taken apart bit by bit to find out how we work. Follow my lead when the door opens. Understand?” Sabretooth nodded and she leaned back slightly, tracing her fingers down the hard lines of his face. She remembered their times together not with the warm glow of a past love but with a clinical stance of a scientist, dissecting motivations and actions. “Viktor, no,” she whispered. “It’s the past.”
“Didn’t say a thing,” he replied, pushing her away more gently than she would have given him credit for as the door swung open.
Essex raised a brow as he took them in, standing so close together and looking, to his eye, slightly guilty. “I’m not an idiot,” he finally announced, strolling towards them both as if he were simply welcoming them to his home. “I know you’re plotting, not lovers.” He reached Mystique and laid a finger across his lips, tapping in thought. “You, especially, should realize that your ruse is ineffective and, at best, juvenile.” He smiled and reached for her crimson hair, taking a lock between his fingers and twisting it slightly. “You are not known for your cunning, are you?”
Mystique did not change expressions as she shifted, her body still shaking off the effects of weeks worth of sedatives and sleeping draughts. The soft pop and squelch of bones and tissue changing was preternaturally loud in the quiet room. “No, but you are,” she replied with the barest hint of a smile. Twisting away quickly, she dropped to the floor and swept her leg across Essex’s stance, sending him tumbling. Sabretooth did not tarry, grabbing one of the ornate wall hangings which masked surveillance equipment and throwing it over the scientist, wrapping him in a bundle. Essex thrashed, howling in outrage, until Mystique brought a sharp blow down on the side of his neck, making him gasp for air. “Search his pockets,” she ordered Sabretooth. “Be careful!”
The large mutant fished two hypodermic needles out of Essex’s pants pocket, both capped and full of a thick-looking yellow liquid. One of the needles seemed sized for a horse while the other was of a more mundane variety. Sabretooth snorted and glanced up at Mystique. “Which one is going to kill you?” he asked Essex, holding up the two needles.
“Neither, you dolt.” He had ceased thrashing and was sitting balefully where Sabretooth had dropped him. “They are harmless to me, compatible only to your specific DNA.”
“Let’s test that theory, shall we?” Mystique asked pleasantly, plucking one of the syringes from Sabretooth. With a deft flip of her thumb, she uncapped it and swept her gaze over the bound man’s exposed flesh. “The neck,” she murmured, mostly to herself. In her guise as Essex, she quickly slid the needle beneath his suddenly clammy skin, depressing the plunger and emptying the smaller syringe into his bloodstream. Essex hissed and gasped, taking on a sickly green color.
“You don’t wanna kill him?” Sabretooth asked, almost disappointed.
Mystique, already heading out the door, sneered. “If that concoction doesn’t kill him, we can use him later. Bring him along and we’ll stash him somewhere.” She paused and fixed Essex with a hard glare. “If your associates won’t be too inconvenienced, maybe we can take them along for the ride, too.”

A/N Next chapter, Logan and Mark. Also, a hint of Jono. After that, some smut (NOT involving those three!)