Shiva

BY : Nemain
Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > General
Dragon prints: 5147
Disclaimer: 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.







SHIVA—CHAPTER 24 (NC-17)

Disclaimers apply

 

A/N Foxfeather is cool—read her fic and be happy. Thanks also to InterNutter and TC for
archiving all this…mess…lol. And
everyone who reviewed gets big wet sloppy kisses from me. And the ducks.

 

 

Mystique
watched Ruth as the girl moved stiltedly across the room, hips jutting
painfully under pale, scored skin and legs jerking as if her brain was not
sending the proper signals. It was like
watching a zombie. Ruth had taken to
wearing plain gray scrub pants and a thin white t-shirt, both of which were too
big and showed the angles of her bones clearly, giving Mystique a slight twinge
of guilt for her part in the girl’s mistreatment—a twinge that was quickly
suppressed. “If you don’t hurry, I’ll
run you through the training program again!”

“No…” Ruth
rasped. She moved quicker, her
movements jerkier than ever and stumbling across the slick floor. “No…”

“Well,
then, hurry.” Mystique turned on her heel
and strode from the room, Ruth’s uneven steps trailing her own quick, staccato
ones. “Here.” The blue woman opened the door to a small, white chamber, the
walls gleaming in a random salute to sanitization. Ruth stopped at the door and peered in, eyebrows creeping upwards
in dismay. The sole features of the
room were two silver-white backboards, fixed to the walls across from each
other. They were designed to restrain people
in an upright position, the center of the room bare save for a drain.

“Not
this…please!” Ruth had been in this
room several times in the past forty-eight hours. Each time, some poor sould, sd, some poor soul left the world in
the name of experimentation. She locked
her legs, gripping the doorframe tightly but failing to stop her own entry when
Mystique shoved her mightily. Ruth fell
forward, splitting her chin and lip open with the impact. Intensive practice made projecting her pain
second nature and Mystique experienced the sudden, sharp reaction, the
throbbing pain and ache that Ruth should have felt.

“Bitch!”
she hissed. “Stay here!” Mystique could not help herself—she cradled
her chin and it’s nonexistent injury as she slid the door shut between the girl
and herself.

Ruth did not cry—she was long past
crying. Parts of her felt she was
already dead, that she was in some sort of hell reserved for mutants. That was only small part, the part that was
still truly Ruth. The rest of her felt
raw and exposed, senseless and nerveless.
She had no name, no past, no future.
She was a tool and a weapon, living death. A small pool of blood was forming beneath her face and it began
to congeal, making Ruth move away from its ruby-toned protestation of
life. _Not alive…dead dead dead. _

 

Kitty’s mouth tasted like a tire
that had run over a dead possum—twice—in the heat of summer. She made a gagging noise, hoping to dislodge
whatever crawled into her throat and died, only to find that the taste was from
her own saliva, the product of whatever Magneto had injected her with. “Don’t like it? Still working the bugs out, so to speak.” The man in question bent into her view. “It’s quite fascinating, really, what one
can do when one has the resources. That
injection not only knocked you out, it suppressed your powers. In fact,” he looked over Kitty’s head at
what she guessed was a clock, “you should be sans powers for some time
now…”

To test this, Kitty tried to phase
her hand through the floor and failed, meeting resistance with each frantic
push. “What did you give me?”

“I don’t have a name for it quite
yet…I’m thinking of naming it after your grandfather.” Magneto disappeared from her view and Kitty
felt her heart lurch to her throat, a coppery taste mingling with the necrotic
one.

“My…my Zedye? What?”
Kitty pushed herself to her feet from her sprawl on the floor, the world
spinning drunkenly around her for a moment before she regained her
bearings. Magneto was checking some
monitors to her right, but Kitty did not have the wherewithal to make another
break for it. She left like her legs
were made of cotton wool and her head was full of Jello.

Magneto made a “tsk” noise and
shook his head, a faint smile dancing across his features. “My, but you were a sheltered child, weren’t
you?” He turned, leaning against the bank
of electronics, to regard Kitty with a pitying gaze. “Abram Simonov is not who you think he is.”

_That Zedye…he didn’t mean
Yaya’s husband…He meant mom’s father… _ “Who is he?” Kitty was almost pleased to note her voice
did not waver, despite her inner quaking.


“Does the name Majdanak[1]
sound familiar to you? It should…” His gaze bore holes into Kitty’s skin, it
seemed. She shifted uncomfortably but
never took her eyes off of him.

“It was the camp my mother’s family
went to. Only Zedye survived…Bubie was
in Koldichevo, in Belarus and they didn’t meet until after the war…”

“I was at one of the camps, you
know…” He moved now, closing the
distance and reaching out to touch the silver chain hanging on the outside of
her clothes. “Mogen David…”[2]

Kitty moved then, leaning away to
break contact. “Mine,” she hissed. “Yaya gave it to me.”

“Yaya…Ah, yes….your father’s side
is the Greek side, eh? Your mother…the
Russian side. Yes…” Magneto took to
pacing, looking at Kitty every third pass.


“Well?” She was not afraid, she found, merely tired and angry. _They’ll get me out of this…Kurt and
Logan will be the worst to calm down, I’m sure. At least one of them will make it in here…Gotta stay calm…talk to
Magneto like you don’t care, like you’re not thinking you may shit yourself if
he touches you again. _

“They did all sorts of tests on
me.” She knew instinctively who “they”
were. “Did you know I actually met
Mengele[3]?”
Kitty looked at him blankly, the name of the boogey man so often spoken to the
children of Jewish immigrants to the States ringing loud in her ears, making a
quiver of fear dart through her stomach.
“Mengele was quite interesting….always in control, always doing exactly
what he planned to do…”

“This is a good thing?” Without noticing, Kitty slipped into the
speech patterns of her home, the cadence of Yiddish, Russian, and Greek
overlying English words.

Magneto continued as if he had not
heard her; indeed, he looked so lost in his own thoughts that Kitty deemed it
quite possible she was being ignored.
“Mengele inspired me. I knew,
even as they poked me, prodded me, performed all sorts of tests and surgeries…I
knew that one day, I could be like him. I could make a better mousetrap, as it
were.”

“Mengele never did that…he was a
torturer.” Kitty took a tentative step
forward, unsure of where she was going just knowing that she wanted to get
there fast if she had to. “He killed
for pleasure…”

“That’s where you’re wrong,
Kitty. He killed out of necessity. He killed in the name of research. The deaths were…” Magneto spread his hands,
pausing to smile broadly at Kitty, “a matter of course.”

A sickening idea was fast forming
in Kitty’s mind, making her legs shake almost uncontrollably. “God, no…are you planning…” her hand crept
to her neck, the welt at the injection site calling to mind just what was
happening in her body. “You’re
experimenting on humans?”

“Not experimenting. In fact, you’re only the second person to be
honored by my little invention. I
tested it on myself first, of course…” He seemed quite pleased with
himself.

“What the Hell does this have to do
with Zedye?” Kitty fought to keep her
stomach from heaving, focusing on balance and praying to whatever god would
listen that she would make it out of there in one piece. _Mengele…God! His hero is Mengele… _

“There was a young guard at the
last camp I was sent to. Auschwitz was
huge and the personnel were some of the best in the world, to hear them tell
it. As far as prisoners went, I was
treated well. I was still less than human
to them, but I was too…fascinating…to destroy.” Magneto eyed Kitty for a moment before continuing. “You know, you’re a lucky girl to have me
tell you all of this.”

“You’re drawing it out on purpose,”
Kitty gritted out. “Tell me the damned
story or let me go…”
ou aou are so like your
grandmother…always the tough little optimist…always disappointed, eh?” Kitty
shrank back as Magneto advanced, finding herself against a wall in short
order. Magneto stopped when he was
close enough to touch her, his breath humid on her skin. “The guard would bring me news from the
other prisoners, people who may have heard from my parents or what not…I never
held illusions of hope. I knew, when I
was first taken, I knew that they were liquidated quickly. Do you know how our---your—people died? Do you know what gas does to a body? I’ve been curious…with your mutation, could
you phase through the Zyklon B?”

“Wha…What? Oh, fuck me…” Kitty doubled over and let her stomach heave dryly. _What is he going to do to me? _

Magneto made a fluttering motion
with one hand, waving away that train of thought. “This young guard, he and I became close. He would help me by brining extra food,
salving wounds…In turn, I showed him my dark secret[4],
as I called it then. When it became
clear the tide was turning in the war, that there might be hope in the world
for people such as myself, we began to make plans, this guard and I. He was to be the muscle, I was to be the
brains…The idealism of youth, eh? Even
in a camp such as Auschwitz…” Kitty
fell onto her rear on the floor, shaking hard, staring unseeing at
Magneto. He smirked at her expression
and continued, his voice lower than before, wandering in the past as he
was. “He was not particularly high-ranking,
this man, but he had some special clearances that made him rather useful to me
in the end. There was another prisoner
with me in the holding block where those such as myself were kept. This boy, he had a quite unique
problem. He was rather hard to see when
he chose to be. Invisible, perhaps, is
a better word. When he was afraid, you
could not see him. Being a child, he
was afraid all the time. The only way I
knew he was there was from his constant sobbing.”

“Please…” Kitty felt like sobbing herself then.

“My guard-friend came with us when
we were moved to another camp. We
didn’t know where we were going, only that a small group of us, ones that
Mengele found especially interesting, were being moved somewhere “secure,” as
they called it. The guard came with us,
which was rather interesting. They
almost never transferred guards inse dse days.” Kitty heard the faint creak of bone on bone and it almost made
her laugh, thinking of this physical manifestation of the reality of
Magneto. He’s not a boogeyman if he
has creaky knees… “We were close to
the end of the war then, prisoners being killed outright all the time, the
Nazis trying to hide what was happening, finally giving up and taking as much
out with them as they could, burning bodies, burning evidence…My friend made
sure that I did not die, even in those final days. He was the son of a rather high ranking official, a guard by post
but rank by birth. He offered me all
sorts of lovely things to pair with him after the war, in exchange for saving
my life. He was weak minded,
Kitty. I could not actually be bribed
but I accepted his offers—the inducements were quite spectacular. He offered me stockpiled Zyklon B, he
offered money, safe passage anywhere I wanted to go…He offered me his own flesh
and blood should I ever need it.”

“What are you saying, damn it?”
Kitty moaned in panic.

“The invisible boy died. I heard it.
My friend killed him to save his own life, a trait that is most commonly
called survival of the fittest but can be disguised as murder by those who do
not understand. I heard the slash of a
bayonet, I saw the blood seep under the door…His skin was see-through but his
blood was quite visible. My friend took
the other prisoner’s uniform, he took all identifying mahe ehe even used his
own knife and an ink pen to give himself numbers.”[5] Magneto crouched low, forcing Kitty to look
him in the eyes. “He fled the camp
ahead of the Americans. He escaped into
the woods and I did not hear from him again for years…when I did, he had a new
name. For all intents and purposes, he
was the dead prisoner, the other mutant.
He was Abram Simonov now. Kitty,
your grandfather is a Nazi guard. He
made a pact with this Devil and I am holding him to it.”

 

“Mama?”

“Kurti? Was ist…”
“Nein…not me! It’s….it’s Kitty.”[6]
Kurt twirled the phone cord through his fingers and squeezed his eyes tightly
closed. His mother’s sharp intake of
breath snapped him too attention.
“She’s not pregnant…” he said as an opener.

“What is it, then?” Kurt slowly related the saga of the last day
and a half to his mother, feeling his soul torn open anew with each detail and
word that passed his lips. When he
finished, his mother was stone silent.
“Mama?”

“One moment…” She muffled the phone
but Kurt could hear her asking his father, “Wieviel Geld ist in der
Weihnachtskasse?[7]” Kurt did not hear his father’s response but
soon his mother spoke clear as a bell.
“I’ll be there in two days. I’m
going to fly into New York. I’ll call
the Professor with the information.”

“Mama, ich fühle mich so nutzlos[8]” Kurt did not even bother to fight her
coming—he knew it would be futile.

“Be strong for Kitty, mein
Sohn. I’ll be there soon.”

Logan found Kurt cradling the phone
to his chest almost an hour later, a dull dial done throbbing in the silence of
the room. “Elf?”

“Was? Oh…Logan.” A light of eagerness blasted across Kurt’s eyes. “Have you found Kitty? Where is she?”

“Sit, sit…” Logan dislodged the phone from Kurt’s grasp
and nudged him into a seat. “No word
yet…not really.”

“Not really? Was ist this not really? Yes or no!”
Kurt heard his voice rising as if he were listening from another room,
separate from himself.

“Watch it, kid!” Logan was restraining his temper in
deference to Kurt’s emotional state.

“Nein! We’re sitting around here, waiting for a phone call and Kitty is
out there ALONE!” Kurt wrenched away
from the man and pounded his fist against the wall. “I have to find her! I’m
not going to sit here and wait for the worst!”

“Settle, Elf! Getting pissed ain’t gonna help!” _ I
feel ya, Kurt… _

“Nein, nein, nein!” Kurt clenched his hands in his hair,
growling low in his throat. “You have
no idea what to do, do you?”

“Kid, settle the fuck down!” Logan made a grab for Kurt but the youth
‘ported away, popping back into view a few feet out of Logan’s reach.

“This is as settled as I’m going to
be for a long time…” Kurt lashed his
tail agitatedly. “Meine mother is
coming in…”

“Astrid?” Logan felt a brief glimmer of admiration before returning his
attention to Kurt’s attitude.

“Ja…she loves…she loves Kitty,
too.” Kurt nearly choked on Kitty’s
name but forced himself onward. “I’m
going to find her, Logan.”

“You’re going to calm down, let the
police do their thing and let the Professor search where he can.”

Kurt narrowed his eyes at Logan and
spoke slowly, as if weighing each word as he said it. “You said ‘not really…’
Was ist not really?”

Logan sighed and shook his
head. “Can’t say. Chuck—the Professor—wants to hold off…”

Kurt felt the howl building low in
his gut and did not fight it. He threw
his head back and let out all the frustration and anger and pain he had been
feeling since Kitty failed to show up for class the afternoon before, over ten
hours ago now. His cry reverberated
through the halls of the mansion, making Logan’s supersensitive ears ring in
pain. Kurt drew a long, shaking breath
and let loose another keening cry before Logan could clap his hand over the
boy’s mouth. “Stop it!”

Kurt bit him. Hard.
His fangs actually broke skin and Logan felt the blood well before his
mutation kicked in, mending broken flesh and vessels. Kurt jerked away, a tinge of red on his teeth. “You’re keeping something from me,” he
growled. Logan hid his surprise well,
tightening his grip on the back of Kurt’s neck to a near-painful level. “Let me go…”

“No.”

“Was? Let me _go! _ ”
Kurt had said good-bye to logic several hours before. He struggled against Logan now, raising the
man’s ire.

“Don’t make me whip ‘em out, Elf!”
Logan warned, waving his hand threateningly.


“Fuck you!” Kurt arched and twisted, loosening Logan’s
grip. _“Fuck you!” _ he repeated, louder this time, his voice
cracking with emotion. Before Logan
could react, Kurt ‘ported from his grasp, out of the room to Kurt only knew
where.

_Shit. Elf’s gone berserk… _

 

The boathouse was dark and smelled not a little
musty, but neither Jubilee nor Remy cared.
She did not remember how they got there—one minute she was getting the
best kiss of her short life and the next, she was being held against Remy’s
chest one-armed while he used his other hand to open the door to the small
house. It was no bigger than a
bungalow, used as a guesthouse in it’s most recent incarnation. Remy murmured something in her ear that she
could not make out and Jubilee murmured back in agreement. He lowered her so that her feet touched the
ground, keeping one arm around her waist as she bobbled weakly. “Um…” she whispered.

“Oui?” Remy’s voice was thick and low, making Jubilee shiver.

“I don’t know. Seems like I should say something.” A nervous giggle escaped before she could
stop herself. _Great. Sound like a fucking kid, why don’t you? _

“Sometimes, chere,” Remy murmured,
taking her into an embrace that pressed some very interesting parts on his body
to hers, “you don’ need ta talk, eh?”

“You saying I talk to much,
Gumbo?” She was not sure if she should
be insulted or not.

Remy growled, dipping his face to
hers and pressing his lips to hers in a hard kiss. Jubilee melted against him
and Remy groaned, sliding his hands down her back to her buttocks, kneading and
caressing the whole way. Jubilee slid
her thigh between his and Remy shifted his stance to accommodate her, letting
her press her stomach against his pelvis.
“You so tiny, chere…” he whispered when they broke for breath.

“Gymnastics does that…” Jubilee
felt diminutive, fragile. Remy seemed
to be studying her now, caressing her face in the dim light filtering through
the windows. He gazed into her eyes and
pursed his lips. “What?”

“Jus’ seein’ how pretty you are…”

“Shut up…”

“D’accord…” Remy picked her up, cradling her in his arms
like a baby, and strode to the sofa that graced the small den. “Remy be _real _ quiet, so long’s you
be loud, oui?” Before Jubilee could
respond, his mouth was smothering hers again, laving and suckling her lips and
tongue, sending spasms of need to her belly.


Jubilee laid back on the couch,
parting her legs to take Remy’s weight against her thrumming body. “Please…”

“Please what?” he husked against her
throat. His tongue darted out, making
soft, wet licks against sensitized skin.
Jubilee shook her head, mute with rising desire. “Oh…please that…Never one to refuse a
belle femme…” Remy lightly bit her neck
and Jubilee gasped, clutching at his back and shoulders, pushing her hips
against his hardening arousal. Remy let
his eyes close and nuzzled her shoulder.
“You smell like roses, chere.”
He did not even bother to remain quiet, as he promised. He was too busy tasting her skin and kisses
to care much about volume. Jubilee bit
her lip to keep quiet against his ministrations, making Remy smile gently. “P’tite…don’ hold back, eh?” He brushed his thumb across her lips and her
eyes shot open. “You don’ hafta be
polite pour moi…”

Jubilee smiled then and took his
thumb into her mouth, showing him in great detail exactly what she was thinking
of doing. Remy felt his eyes grow wide
as the small girl suckled on his thumb, licking and scraping her teeth gently
across it as if it were his manhood. He
groaned softly and disengaged his hand from her attentions. “Hey…”

“Not jus’ yet, chere…want to wait
and please you first, eh?”

Jubilee froze. I’ve never…oh, boy. Don’t freak, Lee. Deep breaths… “Please
me?”

“Oui…” Remy frowned, pulling back
slightly to look at her. “You shakin’,
fille?”

“Um….a little…” Please think
it’s hormones or lust or something…

Remy had a revelation then and
there. Jubilee’s shy expression, her
shaking hands…He decided to verify this idea.
“Jubilation, you ever…ah…how to say dis delicately…you ever had…”

Jubilee sighed. “No.
Never an orgasm. Ever.” Not even by myself…

“Remy like a challenge…” Changing the goal of the evening, Remy smiled against her
cheek.

“Uh-oh…”
Jubilee felt faint. Remy pressed
another kiss to her parted lips and she gave herself over to him. His hands teased her breasts, tweaking her
nipples and passing his thumbs over the erect buds where they tented her
t-shirt. She sighed, arching to his
touch. “More…” Remy complied happily. His hands found her skin, pushing her shirt
up to expose her breasts to his questing mouth. She writhed and moaned aloud as he paid attention to each
sensitive peak in turn, laving them until they were pink with arousal and wet
with his saliva. Her stomach presented
a myriad of ideas to Remy, but he settled for merely kissing his way down to
her navel, dropping little licks every few inches, and a sharp nip on the soft
swell of her lower belly. Her jeans
were low on her hips, nearly indecently so, and he appreciated that
greatly. Jubilee was past coherent,
making noises more cat-like than human, mewling and purring, occasionally
moaning Remy’s name. He dipped his
tongue into her navel and was rewarded with a buck of her hips, the damp spot
on her jeans brushing his chin. Remy
grinned devilishly and set to work on her button-fly jeans, Jubilee clutching
at his shoulders as he pulled the clothing down her legs. “Please, God…please….” Remy paused to admire the sight before
him—Jubilee, almost naked, her core glistening wet with desire for him, her
skin flushed and damp with sweat as she chewed on her lower lip to stem the
flow of her murmurings. Remy planted a
tiny kiss on her inner thigh and
Jubilee’s eyes snapped wide, the girl realizing what he was about to do. “No!”

“Why not?” he murmured against her
thigh, brushing his lips up one side and down the other, carefully avoiding her
center.

”It’s gross!”

“Who tol’ you dat lie?” Jubilee was stricken silent and Remy seized
the opportunity. Leaning forward just slightly, he let his lips brush against
her wet desire, making her cry out in surprise. “I be tinkin’ you not been wit de right people, chere…Dis be
quite a delicacy…” He could see the
blush race down her body, making her flush even redder than she already
was. He darted his tongue out, sweeping
the length of her sex and ending with a firm lick against her most sensitive
bundle of nerves. Jubilee let out a long, shuddering sigh and he knew he was close
to bringing her to completion. He suckled
gently at the apex of her thighs, making her writhe and moan, her legs wrapping
around his ribs and her heels digging in to bring him closer, if that was at
all possible. Remy increased the
intensity of his attention and a sudden flood of moisture signaled the start of
Jubilee’s first orgasm. He quickly slid
one graceful finger into her opening, pumping in and out as she arched towards
him, crying his name over and over until it became an incoherent chant of
release, her desire flooding down his chin and hand. She shuddered hard and he pulled away, kissing her thighs again
and resting his cheek against her lower stomach. “Chere…”

“I know…”

“Non…you don’…” He moved to look her in the eyes. “Chere, I be tinkin’ I need to tell you
somthin’.”

“What’s that?” Jubilee felt like she was floating, Remy’s
words drifting in and out of her sphere of consciousness.

“Lissen ta me, bebe…[9] Remy be tinkin’….aw, hell. Jubilee, I love you.”



[1] One of the
major killing camps. Where a cache of
Zyklon B was found after the war; the camp had been abandoned.

[2] Mogen
David=Star of David

[3] I’m playing
fast and loose w/Magneto’s background, but get over it. Get your own Universe if you don’t like
it…Mengele was the Angel of Death for several camps, notably Auschwitz. He had cruel, inhuman experiments, esp. on
twins, that are so disgusting that even I get ill thinking about it. If you have a need to know, go to http://home19.inet.tele.dk/aaaa/Mengele/id17.htm


[4] Stolen
directly from the song “Possum Kingdom” by the Toadies. Lovely little band—too
bad they broke up. I think they did, at
any rate…Listen to them anyway. ;)

[5] Prison
tattoos, even now, are made like that.
Sharp object and ink….So are most homemade tats. Not healthy, that… Spend the money and have
it done safely like the rest of us, damn it!


[6] Yeah,
English….get over it! LOL

[7] How much
money is in the Christmas fund? (Thanks, Foxy!)

[8] I feel so
useless (again, Thanks Foxy!)

[9] Bebe---pron.
“beh beh” Cajun way of saying “baby”


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