Intro

Laura's Closet

There was an age old saying of how one could never truly judge a book by its cover. Meaning that one could not look upon someone and truly know what lied behind what their outer shell portrayed. For instance, one would look upon the teenage kid skating up the pavement and see too many piercing, too many tattoos, his lime green Mohawk and figure him to be some punk kid who would not offer anything of importance to this world. Unaware of his art displays in some of the most renowned art galleries throughout the city that had many calling him the next artistic great of our time. Or follow the couple walking hand in hand with such a loving bliss in their eyes as they embraced one another and figure their love to be among the purest you’ve ever seen before. Not able to see the countless bruises hidden beneath of her clothes and make-up from when her beloved ‘loved’ her a little too much. Nor would you look at the tall, alluring, voluptuous blonde strutting the streets pretending to be unaware of the countless lustful glance received from the men she passed and tell that only a few months ago ‘she’ carried the same reproductive equipment they did. Rising a few floors up into the window of the towering apartment complex to peer into the bedroom where a childlike vessel slept on top of her sheets and you would yet again find a misleading sight. For one would look upon this youthful vision of innocent beauty and believe her rest to be peaceful. A glance at her well furnished room would make you believe that her life was stable. Or check out the price for the apartment and believe her parents were well off as was she. However the clicking sound of the front door’s lock and turning of the nearly silent doorknob would change all that.

As soon as the insertion of the door key set the first latch of the lock in motion, hazel brown eyes shot open given fair warning from her alert ears. Uncanny agility and graceful speed moved the dark haired child underneath the large canopy bed in a matter of seconds before the door in the other room could even be opened. From her crouched position she watched from under the bed like a jungle cat watching its prey, replacing the innocence in her face with an animalistic snare. The slightly older man in the overpriced suit ushered a newlywed couple into the room. She could hear their words perfectly but her attention was focused on any sudden movement that might reveal her presence to them. Frozen still like a statue you could barely hear her breath as she stayed undetectable even as she placed the boots onto her feet without using her hands. Quietly she waited until the couple was taken to another room, using this chance to swiftly moved to the window which she opened and exited out of. Moving out of the window while gripping the frame of the opening with her right hand, she slammed both boots and her left fist into the wall holding herself up fifteen stories above ground by the claws that popped out from her with only a slight wince of pain. Closing the window with her free hand now that she was supported she paused once she caught sight of the next door neighbor looking right at her. The poor old lady was only trying to water her plants when she caught of the girl that made her freeze in shock. Seeing this child with claws planted into the wall. Laura gave her a bone chilling glare before growling and extending the last two claws from between her right knuckles. The woman made a frightful gasp before moving back into her window and slamming it shut. Relaxing the muscles in her face she started a climb up five more stories to the roof of the building.

Currently finding herself without a place to sleep or anyway to make any money meant she had to find other means of lodging. And with the enhanced abilities she possessed along with the countless hours of skills burned into her brain, ‘squatting’ seemed like an ideal method. Using her enhanced hearing to pick up any recently vacant rooms of any apartment complex she passed. Her handy breaking and entering skills to gain access to said vacancy. As well as keeping track of her neighbors’ movement and her own stealth to ensure she could move about the room undetected. So far the method had brought many warm nights in a staged/furnished apartment where she could get a hot shower and comfortable bed. At least until a potential tenant came along and ruined it for her. And from the eager tone of the couple’s voice and hastened heartbeat the two were sure to make an offer on the place. Which meant that she would have to be moving on, returning to the life that required her to sleep on a couple of benches or in some abandoned building. But don’t feel sorry for the child, she was bred to survive in any living condition she found herself. She wasn’t bothered in the least where her luck would land her as long as she made each step unshackled from anyone’s leash. Freedom was something she was not looking to lose anytime soon. Reaching the top of the building she moved from the edge of the roof to where she stashed her duffle bag containing all her worldly possessions. Not much but she didn’t need much in this world. And she would protect all she had by any means. Inside were some clothes she had gathered through illegal means of shoplifting or by legal means of purchasing them…with the money she picked from others pockets. Opening the bag she retrieved a black leather jacket to throw over her thin shirt and grey jeans. Taking a moment to rub her fingers across the pages torn from a storybook before she closed the contents and shifted the duffle bag onto her back.

Not taking a moment to breath she rushed the edge of the roof and leapt into the air, tumbling onto the adjacent rooftop some five stories below. Not missing a stride she rolled onto her feet and continued her pace as she leapt another five stories down onto the next roof. Moving to the next edge she simply hopped over and landed on the fire escape that would take her decent the rest of the way to the ground of the alley below her. Making her way into the street with her head lowered to the ground it did not take much for her to blend into the crowd of people moving about. One of the good things about hiding in the streets of New York were that it was easy to go unnoticed among a collection of people who could care less about who you were or where you came from. It was here that Laura had found her refuge, but for how long would it last? How long could she stay off of Weapon-X’s radar? Unaware of its demise she still figured they were hunting for one of its most prized possessions that had escaped once again. She still had no idea what had released her from neck restraints some time ago but it was only a matter of time before she would be hunted down like the animal they bred. But with no money or idea of where to run to Laura was finding herself stuck in limbo. She had plenty of skills that could make her a couple of dollars on the streets using her body like she had in the old days, but those methods were ones she wish not revisit. And with Daddy Zebra cold in the ground there was no reason for her to even consider them. Still with no family to turn to or friends to protect her, what was she to do? A mysterious man approached her a couple of days ago about joining his army of Marauders but it seemed that her better senses warded her away from whatever cage he was looking to place her in. Walking aimlessly was pretty much became all she had been doing for days. Looking for her next meal or place to lay her head.

She was made to follow orders with unshaken obedience but without any directive to follow she had no purpose in life. Dark thoughts and emotions creeping into her being that that brought about the all too familiar urge to feel adamantium metal cut into her flesh till she could feel nothing but numbing pain course through her being…because…because…why? Something washed over Laura with a stronger force then what had caused by her inner turmoil. But what gave such painful thought? It was on the edge of her mind and then pushed far into the forgotten. So far she had no idea what was plaguing her mind or why it was causing her mental laced claws to sheath out of her skin. It was quite eerie for the girl who could recall almost every bit of training drilled into her since birth but could not even grab the thought she held moments ago. Retracting the claws that had peaked through her flesh back to their resting place she looked up around her to find her aimless path had led her straight to a ice skating rink. Countless people moved about the sheet of ice seeming to not have a single care in the world. And by some means that nonchalant demeanor had found its way to infect the naturally born killer the closer she came to the center. Drawn to it she moved closer feeling all her fears, concerns and various other emotional turmoil just fade into nothing. She welcomed the painless numbing effect. Coming to the outer rink she spied a pair of skates abandoned on the side that appeared to be her size. Dropping her bag she held so close without a care of its contents to the floor, Laura moved to the ice skates and removed her own footwear to be replaced. Ice skating had been one of the more miscellaneous skills taught to her by her creators. Of course their method was to use the blades of the skates as a means to assassinate a target…but none of that seemed relevant today.

None of the horrors brought on by the hand of Weapon-X…or the endless amount of blood on her hand….or all consuming sense of being hunted. Her own actions felt unsettling at first. To the point she could feel her inner self fighting against whatever was happening…but why should she fight? There was nothing she could recall that was keeping her from enjoying this. Lacing up her skates she moved on to the ice and began gliding about with the grace of a pro. Feeling the wave of calm take more of a hold of her lifted all pain and angst from her being. Bringing about the most unnatural force in her muscles as the corners of the girl’s lips were horrifically morphed…into an actual smile.

Gambit was quite proud of himself. He wished he could have been there to see the shock on A-Gente-Zilch’s face, but just knowing he slipped the woman from underneath the man’s nose was definitely enough to prove Remy had the upper hand all along. Oh ho, that was bound to piss Zero off! He couldn’t contain his laughter, oddly leaving his voice behind where he once was as the teleporter zoomed them to who in the hell knows where. Being a thief was about taking chances at times. No risk, no reward. He only hoped he and Fox didn’t end up in space suffocating amongst the stars, or underwater drowning to death, or in a wall disfiguring themselves. Merde, t’at’s alotta chances. Perhaps too much for the thief, but he always did have an act now think later mentality. Sort of. Who knew with the thief? Maybe his actions were all well calculated to this point in time and he knew exactly what he was doing. Imagine the world knowing Gambit was a master manipulator and was controlling everyone with invisible strings.

How very Mister Sinister of him. He gagged at the thought.

The change of scenery was gut-wrenching, even to someone used to teleporting about. The dim and dreary Annex of the laboratory was replaced with vivid hues of white and gray, each color glaring with such vivacity Gambit’s pupils couldn’t handle the sudden change. He briefly made out other people moving around, quite quickly, as him and Fox materialized a foot off the ground. Remy barely had enough time to realize how cold the place was before his feet hit the slick flooring beneath him. Not yet capable of understanding he was on ice, his face flashed with surprise as his feet were swept out from under him (and unfortunately for Fox his arm was still intertwined with hers). He fell backwards as if someone pulled the rug out from under him. His back slammed into the ice, a groan passed his lips, a swoosh of oxygen flew from his lungs like a fox running from hounds, and he blinked at the sky while noticing heads continuously moving about at the side of his vision. He was suddenly wet, cold, and aching. This was not what he signed up for.

The chill radiating from his back made him realize he was lying on ice. He lifted himself up to a sitting position, mumbling about his coat getting wet and ruined. Straightening out his collar, he glanced around again, ignoring the blurs of people on skates as the ice rink’s cement walls blocked the majority of his vision. His eyes managed to pierce the haze of people and towards a statue glancing down at them in its mocking, gold face. Rolling his eyes, Remy finally realized where they ended up. Rockefeller Center was a hard place not to remember. Some good times here (private times for a thief, you know). Gambit slowly considered the teleporter did more than take them from place to place, but also to the future or past. The ice rink was open now? He was having a hard time believing it.

During the entire ordeal, Remy never once unleashed his hold on Fox. It was an instinct not to let her go for some strange reason. “Don’t move too fast,” he demanded, trying to pick himself up, “gonna break my skull in.” The lovely thing about New Yorkers was that they neither cared about someone falling nor stared when someone fell. To them, Gambit and Fox had been there the entire time. Their minds couldn’t register two people falling from the sky. Besides, they had no proof Gambit and Fox did just appear out of no where with all the congestion. After a brief moment and still trying to keep Fox close, Remy managed to get to his feet, wobbly regaining his balance. His back was frozen and wet, making him miserable and irritated, but he looked around before realizing they had to get off the ice. Or at least put some skates on. “We need t’get outta here before we get run over.” Cursing to himself, he aimed to pull Fox along, only to be blocked but a continuous loop of people.

They were trapped like rats, unable to run on the ice, with the stupid golden statue laughing at them behind their backs. That t'ing is gonna blow up real quick. His traction on his boots was nearly non-existent, barely able to stand upright let alone dodge New Yorkers that went in circles and circles. He eyed a kid laughing at him as he twirled and spun with such grace, it seemed like he'd been doing it for years. Gambit suddenly had the urge to see if he could tackle the kid and blow up his ice-skates blades, but he settled for sticking his tongue out at the kid as the kid laughed.

So what exactly was Gambit up to in all of this? He considered his actions striking at Mister Sinister's Achilles heal. With Fox gone, Zero wouldn't comply to anything Sinister ordered the man to do. Or so Remy hoped. He'd be too belligerent, or too disgruntled to actually carry out a mission in part to Fox missing. Granted, Remy also knew Zero was a trained professional. The entire time he had been shooting at Wolverine back in the day, he was shooting and missing on purpose, which only signaled Agent Zero was a trained combatant and knew how to use firearms. Remy was hoping Zero's emotions could get the best of him, leaving him unable to actually do whatever Essex ordered.

But what part did Fox have in all of this?

Mister Sinister had a habit of manipulating weak minded people; Gambit being one himself in the very beginning. Remy didn't want Silver Fox around where she could easily be corrupted by Essex as well. It was better this way, far away from wherever Sinister's lab was. Remy looked down at the device, contemplating in blowing it up, but he slipped it into his pocket and kept it whole. He might need a way out, and hopefully, Mister Sinister couldn't manipulate the thing from wherever he was at.

((CMF: Silver Fox: SiniLab Mech Annex: Conflict of Interest))


Silver Fox felt quite ill. She hadn't liked being caught off guard by that device the first time, when Zero had grabbed her up in a rush and activated the device. Mind you, circumstances were not promising and she wasn't being cooperative, so Agent Zero hadn't had much of a choice. That didn't help her off-kilter feeling upon appearing in that weird place. But they had been alone and she had, amidst it all, found that the quiet and reserved agent was to be trusted. And a puzzle to figure out.

She hated puzzles.

What she hated more? Having so many things thrown in to keep her control away. Fox was adventurous and wild, but she liked to be in charge of her adventures, or at least a driving force. From that hot place with sand to the metal place to ...here, she had been firmly shoved in the passenger seat. The back seat.

The storage bunk [or 'trunk', for us modern folk].

She did not like being played with, lied to, or forced along for any rides. Silver Fox was not the same woman she had been before the Cosmic Cube fiasco, but she was the base. She was the core. The Silver Fox the world knew now had started with her and it was damn well time that it showed. The stubbornness, the icy temper, the wildchild 'do what I want, get what I want' attitude, the pride, the fierceness - all her, all core. While fighting nausea and dizziness, Fox reflected. Gambit had taken her suggestions moments after she decided to go with Zero's idea instead. He'd grabbed her in a flash, activated the device, and now they were in a new place. A strange place with buildings and people and..it was a frozen lake? Fox pondered the idiocy of having a frozen lake in the middle of this very not-natural place. And why were people on it? Wasn't this dangerous?

Of course..she had scampered about on frozen lakes before, much to her father's dismay. It had been thrilling. Perhaps it had caught on as something fun? Hm. But all of these people had strange shoes on. There was metal on the bottoms. Well, not everyone was adept at sliding on ice [that had been a fun experience with Logan, though he'd tell a different story]. She deduced that the metal was supposed to help. How? She didn't know. One would think that using the whole of your feet would be easier than thin metal. Whatever.

She had fallen. Or, to be more precise, Gambit had fallen and taken her with him. Oh, she would have fallen just the same without him, but she liked to think that her rear end wouldn't be so sore without his added weight forcing her down onto the cold ice. Gambit landed back first, but Fox was spared. Only her round rump was subject to the wet chill of the ice. She was aware of some laughter and was not thrilled. She had her pride.

And Gambit had yet to release her.

“Don’t move too fast,” -- “gonna break my skull in.”

"I should be so lucky," the now-grumpy woman muttered. Her defense when feeling an oncoming panic-attack? A very unhappy mood. She was fully prepared to lay the blame at Gambit's feet. The surroundings were too weird - this was effectively a time jump for Fox - and there were too many people around to witness her freaking out. It was like the ball again, a new world that she was only slightly ready for. But she had asked for it that time and Logan had been there and it had been fine! /This/? /This/ was //not// fine.

Gambit was cold and irritated.

Silver Fox was getting moody. Moody enough that her temper could potentially trump the panic and fear and confusion.

“We need t’get outta here before we get run over.” He was up and pulling her...nowhere. Because there was no where to go with all these people crowding them in. Fox, her dark mood rising, yanked her hand away. It wasn't exceedingly difficult, with her enhanced strength and all. The Native American beauty wobbled some, but regained her balance with the ease of someone used to skating on frozen lakes without metal on the bottom of her shoes. Surprisingly, she found the boots she had on not at all troublesome. Then again, she'd learned to walk in heels before. These boots weren't as much of an issue now that the initial unfamiliarity was behind her. The cloak she still had on blocked the chill, but the fact was that Fox had little in the way of cold-appropriate clothing on. She'd been dressed for desert weather.

She wouldn't get sick though, healing factor and all. And she wasn't all that cold either, Canadian winters and all.

Still not a happy camper though. Fox folded her arms and the forming scene looked like a pissed off woman about to give the guy she was with a very hard time. The misfortune with the ice wasn't all that kid was laughing at. Silver-blue orbs flashed and Fox kept up her 'not happy' stance. "Where have you taken me and /why/ are we here?" If she could stay focused on how very nonplussed she was, Fox could ignore just how close she was to having a minor, and hopefully brief, freak out. This was not okay.

The woman took a breath. Adventure; she just had to think of this as an adventure. It'd be like relearning the world of white men all over again. ..or the /whole/ world all over again. But if this was going to be an adventure, she would have to take charge. She didn't know what kind of monster she had become and it had occurred to her that Gambit didn't /really/ know just how problematic her head problems had become. He was familiar with who she had been..before the incident. Hopefully she had been someone he wasn't all too interested in seriously pissing off without good reason.

"You did it all on purpose," she stated dryly. "You used that thing without something bad happening, so why did I have to come along?" Fox had, if you'll recall, made the offer because Gambit had expressed concern - false concern she belatedly thought - over blowing up all he'd touch. Evidently, that wasn't as much of a problem as initially thought. With that in mind, Gambit had no reason - in her head - to drag her out here. "This..this was to make that man - Zero - angry wasn't it?" The idea of being someone's tool against another obviously ticked her off and her eyes flashed in a way reminiscent of her former dark and icy self.

Fox couldn't make a 'scene', not here. Or she wouldn't, rather. However the 'this was not a good move' look on her face said that, memory or not, fish out of water or not, she was willing to make Gambit a lot more miserable than he already was if he didn't start talking. Eyebrow arched and a familiar chill in her eyes, Fox cocked her head. She would have thought it was something to do with that card, but Gambit had said he was trading his time with her for her time with Logan. She had refused..but it was unknown whether or not he cared that she had refused. If that was what this was about...Fox would make good on her threat from before. Be mad, be mad, be mad, be mad.. Because that way..she wouldn't be afraid. If she didn't hold onto that..she wouldn't have anything to hold on to and the fear and confusion and uncertainty would surely take over.

She didn't want to break down here, in front of strangers, in front of anyone that she didn't trust and treasure. In front of anyone that wasn't..Logan. Be mad, be mad, be mad, be /mad/. Emotional substitution was a beautiful thing.

"..."

{Not exactly sure if I’m playing this “It’s A Wonderful Life” design right. If it’s meant to come off differently let me know ^_^ }

This felt very wrong. But for the life of it she could not figure why. So she just allowed herself to continue moving to the flow of the other skaters around her. Gliding around the frozen ice without a care in the world. All her troubles had been washed away. And being a girl who had been bred into a troubled life meant there was not much to her other than this skating rink. Sure she recalled people and places from her past but all of the emotions she held to each that were based on some sort of torment no longer plagued her heart. Still the feral genetics inside of her still existed. Pushing her urge to escape the normal pace many of those around her were bond to. With a mischievous grin she pushed forward on her skates ducking under the held hands of a couple skating in front of her. With perfect grace she could glide around each person without slowing her momentum or even touching those she passed. Laura even managed to do a few playful tricks as she strode along. Riding on one leg well the other was extended long behind her in the air, jumping into the air with a spin while landing on her skates perfectly with flawless accuracy. Each trick she landed only made her smile grow wider. Even managed for a few faint chuckles to fall from her lips here and there. Most might find this child to be a joyous vision to watch, while those who actually shared her company before would just be in udder shock. Still there was one person who was probably looking down upon the peaceful girl and truly felt at rest to see such joy. All her mother ever wanted was for her project, which later became her own daughter, was to experience happiness outside of what the Weapon-X project planned for her. And while this was all down by some unknown manipulation, it was still a sight to behold.

This was what the people who made her wished to avoid. She was never meant to be a normal girl, only a weapon for them to use at their discretion. To them she wasn’t human but a machine crafted to do their bidding void of all emotions. Reasons being emotions caused humans to be distracted. Case in point, lost in the fun she was having caused her to be a bit distracted as she crashed into another skater that tried to pass in front of her accidentally. The two of them crashed to the ground sliding a bit from the impact. Lucky for them no one else was caught up in the pile up they could’ve easily caused. The man she slammed into, a trained boxer, stood at five inches over six feet of solid muscle build and one nasty temper. Of course it would not even compare to the type of wrath or pain that young Laura was capable of. The ordeal would have most likely ended in bloodshed and broken bones in any other arena. Yet here under this calming fog neither one of them felt any need to cause the other the slightest bit of harm. The trauma of their lives had no relevance here so nether carried around the same anger towards others they held on a daily basis. “Sorry about that.” Came a very apologetic tone Laura used with all authenticity to her words. Waved off as being okay from the man, the two then went on to continue their fun. Yes something was truly wrong here. A small spark in the back of her head was telling her that but she continued to ignore it. Was it because this was something she truly wanted deep down? A life where the blood on her hands was finally washed away. To go through the day without thinking about the ghost of her pasts. Losing all urge to slice her flesh open just to relieve her inner pain. Someone might have been manipulating her but there was little resistance to the loss of control.

Something caused Laura’s skating frenzy to come to a slowing pace. The sound of a familiar voice had reached her ears through the crowd around her. Focusing her senses she tried to hone in on the voice while sniffing the air to confirm just who the identity of the person was. “Silver…Fox.” While her sorrowed memories were caught in a mental fog she could still see some pieces of her life clearer than the rest. The woman’s voice had scent brought a visual picture to the front of her mind. Bits and pieces of their interaction with one another played like a movie edited for TV. Showing all the good moments while removing all the bad that might be deemed inappropriate for children. Even with the pieces she could still feel as though the woman was important to her. Moving through the crowd to where she could sense Silver Fox was standing she caught sight of the woman. Hazel eyes feeling with glee as she moved closer to the target she caught in her sights. With her enhanced abilities she came to the woman’s side in a matter of seconds. Coming to a sliding stop sent some ice shavings in the direction her male companion. A man who held no place in her the memories she could still recall. “Fox.” She exclaimed with overwhelming joy, “Have you come to skate too? It’s quite fun.” Before the woman could even reply Laura leaned forward and wrapped her arms around the woman, “I’ve missed you so.” None of her actions seemed normal for the girl. Especially to someone who had seen her in action before. There seemed to be some tension between the two people, Fox and her friend. Laura could pick up on it, which would’ve usually caused her claws to come out in an effort to protect her friend. Not that the woman needed any protection from anyone. But she didn’t dwell on it. Only thing she was wondering about was why neither of them had any skates.

Gambit was still cold. And still wet. And still annoyed. Mixing a disgruntled feral woman and a moody crafty thief was not a good combination. There was bound to be explosions and growls and all types of cannibalistic fireworks. So who would ultimately win in a war between Fox and Gambit? Remy already knew the answer. It was going to be him, obviously. Fox had nothing on him, especially in her current state. If she decided to go feral on him, he’d just have to blow up whatever she threw at him. He might not have been able to blow up the cotton or wool or whatever parts of her clothes were made up of, but something, anything, she was wearing had to by synthetic. A mere touch and BOOM, crispy feral.

Gambit glanced toward Fox as she spoke with arms across her ample bosom. “I didn’t take you no where. I pushed a button on a device that took us to here. I didn’t choose where.” She had to get her linguistics straight if she wanted to argue. “Besides, you dumb? Look ‘round. We be at a skatin’ rink. You know, you… skate.” Duh? “As to why? You best be thankin’ me.” Gambit’s expression hardened as he crossed his own arms against chest. Two thick-headed people combined never ended up being a pretty sight. Fox spoke again, and Remy barely found the urge to listen. Hmph. It should have been obvious as to why, but women were naturally stupid. Look at Belle? Look at Rogue? Look at Silver Fox? All three were dense in the head when they wanted to be. Remy had a nasty, yet oddly playful, taste in women.

“Remy did do it on purpose,” he admitted, “and you came along cause you offered.” Duh again? And to make Zero angry? Remy laughed. A laughed that echoed with the other laughter in the rink. “You t’ink Remy did it to piss of Zero? Woman, you be stupider t’en a penguin travelin’ t’Africa!” He unleashed his arms, swinging them wildly to prove his point and to point at Fox. “T’at Mister Sinister preys on people like you. You don’t know nothin’. He get in side yo’r head and make that nothin’ somethin’. He manipulate you t’think one thing when it ain’t true. So be t’ankful Remy got you outta t’ere when I could. ‘Cause if I didn’t, you would be nothin’ ‘cept a slave. Just like yo’r damn Zero you seem t’love.” Honestly, what other intentions did Zero have? “ ‘Let’s go t’another room, Fox. Let’s go some place else in this big, dark, facility, Fox. I can keep you here forever, Fox. I’ll gain your trust, Fox, even though I’m aligned with my vampy.’ Girl, open yo’r eyes. He took you to Sinister. And now here be yo’r chance in gettin’ free. Run, shoo. Gambit never saw ya.” There, happy? Remy was actually trying to do the right thing, as usual, and he was getting yelled at, as usual. How predictable.

What wasn’t predictable was a raven haired girl running up to Fox. And the shavings blowing in Gambit’s direction. He held his arms up to cover his face, slipping on the ice yet again and trying to maintain his balance. He looked as if he was running in one spot, never moving, but his feet constantly looking as if he was slipping and sliding. He managed to find his balance, half hunched over with arms out like open wings. Glancing up in distaste, Remy recovered his pissed off demeanor and crossed his arms again. “Like momma like daughter. Pft.” He had no idea if the girl was Fox’s daughter, and he also knew Fox didn’t know if the girl was her daughter. Why not add more fire to the fuel to freak out the Canadian even more? It seemed like that was what he was good at.

Mumbling again, Remy’s eyes glanced around the rink, still trying to find a way out. What he saw in the process only caused him to curse out loud. “Shit, Gambit be leavin’.” He didn’t care who was in his way. He slipped toward the back of the rink, shoving other skaters before he managed to slip towards the wall. He couldn’t hide forever, but he used the wall to pull himself toward the entrance, going into a circle before he found solid non-slippery ground to step on. He ran outside of the rink area, trying to look casual in the process. Throwing a look over his shoulder, he left Fox with her girlfriend, and knew sparks were bound to fly.

Get two pissed off ferals in a room and blood was bound to show up. Get three, and there was going to be war, especially when one had black peaked hair.

TBC: Gambit - TBA

“I didn’t take you no where. I pushed a button on a device that took us to here. I didn’t choose where.”

"That..doesn't really change anything," she told him dryly.

“Besides, you dumb? Look ‘round. We be at a skatin’ rink. You know, you… skate.”

Also unhelpful since Fox's era didn't have skating rinks and the actual verb 'skate' had been unknown to her. She supposed he meant for her to slide about on this ice like everyone else. Despite her understandable ignorance, Fox was unappreciative of the slight to her intelligence. It reminded her horribly of white settlers assuming her people to be stupid because they knew nothing of their world and made up things.

“As to why? You best be thankin’ me.” Fox's expression suggested that she was thinking of doing no such thing. He admitted to grabbing her on purpose, twisting her offer to his advantage. She'd indirectly retracted said offer when indicating that she'd rather go along with Zero's suggestion. “You t’ink Remy did it to piss of Zero? Woman, you be stupider t’en a penguin travelin’ t’Africa!”

Penguin? And again this slighting of her intelligence! All talk of Sinister went over her head; all she understood was that Gambit found him dangerous, manipulative, and untrustworthy. So why had the three been there at all? Or Gambit, at least, since he seemed to not like the head resident..vampy there?

"Girl, open yo’r eyes. He took you to Sinister. And now here be yo’r chance in gettin’ free. Run, shoo. Gambit never saw ya.”

"If he is so terrible..why were you there?" And if he was some poor prisoner escaping, why stop and talk to the 'slaves'. Fox still didn't seem entirely grateful for her 'freedom and liberation'. The woman was highly annoyed at being torn from the only one who seemed to know anything about her personally, 'slave' or not. Wouldn't Gambit be amused to know that it was /Silver Fox/ who was the cause of their employment by Mister Sinister. Nord would, no doubt, have been pleased to be as far away from Sinister and anyone like him as possible. However, Fox had weighed her options and stayed. Nord, caring for Fox and what was left of her sanity, stayed as well. Of course, this Fox couldn't retort with such information..she didn't know.

Someone came up suddenly, startling Fox and amusing her at the same time. The girl, whoever she was, had those weird metal-bottomed shoes on. When she had stopped, ice..stuff [shavings] sprayed all over Gambit. She wondered if he wouldn't become ill.. Worry, a reflex since this was a nicer, gentler Fox, crept up, but she squashed it easily. Slave, stupid - he could fend for himself then.

“Fox.”

Blink. Pause. This girl knew her too? She seemed so happy, this young girl...and smelled of Logan? Not like - I slept with him or was around him a lot - smelled of Logan. More like..?? That was impossible! ..It had been decades..there was no reason that Logan couldn't have kids.. It just meant that he didn't have them..with her. Or had they and she didn't remember? The woman was struck by how horrifying that was. She could..could have children running around somewhere and, without any memories of these past decades, she'd never know. The Native American feral felt slightly ill.

“Have you come to skate too? It’s quite fun.” She was enveloped in a hug before she could ever reply. Friends indeed. Fox wouldn't know that this was more than odd behavior, she didn't remember. Welcome to the club. Unsure of what else to do for the friendly girl, Fox hugged her back. “I’ve missed you so.” Missed? Had she left this girl behind somewhere. Technically, yes..she had. The 'infirmary'-lab of the Weapon X base...if only memory could serve. None of this was uttered though, she didn't know the girl. Her name, where they'd become acquainted, how long it had been, whether this was odd or not - nothing.

“Like momma like daughter. Pft.”

Fox paled and, in her distraction, missed Gambit's exit. And so, her only other acquaintance in this world left her behind with a new possible acquaintance. Two females suffering head issues. Different reasons, different extents, but it changed nothing of the results. It left Silver Fox and Talon [formerly X-23, but Fox wouldn't know that either...] hugging in a familiar fashion on the ice. Talon was enjoying Fox's appearance, happy to see a familiar face..of sorts. Fox was wondering if there was something to Gambit's last comment or if he was trying to make her miserable. She knew him to be gone now, a thief in..broad daylight. She didn't think the girl smelled of her, but...she'd never..smelled herself before. It was a strange thought.

Confused, Fox could only offer a friendly, okay-let's-roll-with-this smile. Who is this girl? Would it be okay to tell the girl that she didn't remember? Taking a chance, Fox spoke. "I..I am sorry. I suffered an accident," or something like that, "in a desert." She wouldn't know to call it Egypt. "I..cannot seem to remember anything from.." decades "..quite some time back." Heavy swallow. "Are..we related?" The girl didn't look /much/ like her, but that meant little other than she may have gotten feminized features of her father's and her..hair color? Personality? She could be wrong. The girl might not be hers at all, which still left Logan's contribution - assuming that she wasn't wrong about that too.

What did she know anyway? Maybe she was completely wrong and this girl had nothing to do with either of them, besides being fond of Fox in a friendly way. She could be worrying herself sick for no apparent reason. Oh..she /really/ wanted Zero here right now. Silver Fox had no time to ponder over the speed of her readily relying on the man. And she'd been so suspicious of him.. She'd have to apologize..if she ever saw him again..

"Or friends? Are we friends?" Why not go for an easier question. "What is your name? Tribe? No..that seemed to confuse everyone else around her more than herself. Maybe there were no tribes anymore.. Maybe all she had known was..truly gone.

[[C:F: The Sinister Legacy]]

”I don’t like this. Our target could’ve easily disguised his signal. He wanted us to find him.”

”Growing chicken wings, O fearless leader?”

Scott liked control. He needed order and mastery over his own destiny and random memories of a life he’d left behind were most certainly not a part of the plan. In a way, it was almost a moment of déjà vu as he roared along the streets of New York City on his freshly purloined motorbike as his mind tripped off to the last time he sought out his father.

The bike he’d left behind was different of course – this one was positively archaic in comparison despite only being a year or two old – and he had a wingman along for the journey. Back then, of course, he merely dismissed Alex’s defiance and attitude to his command to acting out and sibling rivalry but the two had a task to do and after first Emplate and the Monets and then the Beaubier twins fell to the flatscan escapee it was up to Sinister’s two best men to chase him down.

Tracking him down to the Ghost Lands was almost child’s play, but the hardest part was to come as the fateful reunion between the newly free Christopher Summers and the two sons he’d left behind was destined to be the last as they found out Sinister’s ‘true’ motives for keeping his return from outer space from them. He was the proud owner of the embryo of a Brood Queen and without the Dark Beast’s cruel tortures keeping her at bay, her arrival came all too soon. Scott Summers was forced to kill his father, and Alex would never forgive him.

It was a slippery slope for the Brothers from there as the gulf only widened with Scott’s further meteoric rises up the chain of command in Apocalypse’s forces, before the festering jealousy saw Alex took advantage of the one moment Scott’s unerring devotion to the cause faltered and leave him and Jean Grey for dead, dooming their world at the same time. So how did it come to this?

His body still ached, but the worst of the pain he felt from the lashes and wounds the body he’d inherited had suffered he’d pushed off to the back of his mind. Parcelled away, like he’d been taught, he had to focus on the task in hand instead. Inside the stolen leathers he now wore, he could feel the drying blood stick against the lining as he shifted his weight atop the Harley that now took him through Rockefeller Centre.

”Put a sock in it, Alex. It’s showtime.”

[CF: Little Italy: "Cup of Tea"]

"Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do," Wade strode down the street leading up to the back of Rockefeller Center. The teleporter had a mind of its own when it needed to and he didn't have the slightest idea why he was there. Didn't matter, either, he didn't have any job offers on the table. Stick up the ass Tasky had made sure the pretty Lady wasn't going to be giving him one, either, for some time. Oh, well. He'd find something else to do, or someone else to torment. Hopefully someone with a sense of humor.

"There she was just a walkin' down the street singin', Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do," snapping his fingers as he sauntered side to side, the red and black dressed Merc exaggerated his lean as he passed by a rather attractive woman just a walkin' down the street.

"Snappin' her fingers and a shufflin her feet singin', Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do," leaning to the other side Wade bobbed his eyebrows toward another pretty thing walking in the opposite direction. Public places were such great inventions. You could invent a public place right? Someone patent that yet?

Nearing the edge of the large square resting under the arms of a giant, Deadpool broke into song as he swung back and forth, dancing about a few more pretty things--and at least one, ah, not quite so pretty thing--"She looked good, looked good; She looked fine, looked fine. She looked good she looked fine, and I nearly lost my mind."

He wrapped an arm about one's waist and slid on up close singin', "Before I knew it she was walkin' next to me singin', Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do," the two of them looking into each others' eyes for a moment that could last forever. Probably should have brought a Kodak too.

She was calm. She was beautiful. "Holdin' my hand just as natural as can be singin'--" She was taken. Wade ducked under a man's arm come swinging his way. "Do WAH," another blow dodged, "diddy," hey fancy upper cut, "diddy DUM," okay that was a lame jab, "diddy do." One well placed strike to the back of the man's neck as he swung about his dancing partner sent the protective male down for the count and left Wade to saunter off before another scene built.

That's when he stopped at the guard rail up high looking down at the skating ring below. Wade didn't find anything useful or interesting about the place at first. Craning his neck out, over, and below the rail he looked for something or someone to keep him company on long, lonely nights. One night? An hour? Could he at least borrow their likeness for a fantasy? You couldn't imagine the types of fantasies Wade had.

A cloistered backroom somewhere undisclosed, dreary lighting, a small wood table. Various guns broken apart scattered over the wooden top. Cleaning equipment. After-market add-ons--or what he liked to call his Cool Man Stuff. Deadpool holding one particular beauty up for inspection and a soft sigh of contentment slipping through his mask...

A rough exhale escaped him before he realized he'd returned to reality. Well, he'd found his way from Flashbacks back to New York City--which was quite the feat considering he didn't have a GPS device.

Then, there, out on the ice... a creature of such magnificence it could only be, "Bea Arthur." He blinked, shook his head, and looked at the two women standing there again. "That isn't Bea Arthur," he snorted, disappointed that she'd eluded him once more. She was a sly fox that one.

Was that...? That was a Fox! Silver Fox. Why'd they call her Silver Fox anyway? Had anyone ever bothered to ask her that? She was Fox--oh ho ho--but Silver? Why not... Gold? Platinuum? Titanium? Hell she was a feral let's go with ADAMANTIUM, RAWR.

Wade stuck his nose up into the air and did a sniff test. Was that a precursor? Did he... smell the pungent aroma of a man that never showered? Who did anyway? Wade made a mental note to shower, and to take his painstakingly slowest time so that all readers, everywhere, could marvel in the subtle beauties, joys, and hygiene of the act. He WOULD be the CLEANEST man on the board!

Right, so where was Mister Stinky? Wade looked around again for squat Gramps.

(( If me posting before Logan messes anything up, lemme know and I'll delete it. ))

Jean was very susceptible to temperature extremes. In general, she seemed to be very sensitive to colder weather. Unless it was the dead of summer, she rarely went out in shorts, and even around the mansion pajama pants of some fashion were more common than shorts of a similar caliber. She figured that this trip would be no exception. So, she had clad herself in a pair of snug-fitting denim jeans, ending in a pair of boot-like shoes of a coffee color that were only serving the purpose of getting her from point A to point B seeing as how skates would be the new acceptable attire once she got onto the ice. She had gone back and forth on what kind of shirt to wear. She knew that once they started skating, her body would naturally heat up. So, she opted against anything that was too heavy. She selected a 3/4 length sleeve on a shirt that was somewhat flowy in design and a hunter green. It synched her waist delicately and had a high enough collar to brush the undersides of her collar bones. However the center 3-4 inches of the collar laced up. She left it unlaced, though Jean was still practical by nature and it didn't dip down so far as to give a glimpse of cleavage rather than a demure hint. She had spent perhaps the very least amount of time on her hair. The thick ruby strands were set free to flow around her face and down her back. She had several layers that brushed her cheeks with a sparse coating of bangs tickling along her brow. These were brushed hap-hazardly to the side. Her hair held a natural curl anyway, and so she had to do very little to get the saucy waves that she now sported.

Parking her car (well, it wasn't exactly -her- car), an older body mustang...white with red strips along the center, she slid out of the leather seat, planting her booted feet firmly on the little parking lot. Her eyes danced over the scene before her. Sure enough, the rink was open and crowded with children and adults alike. She took a brief moment to bask in the sense of community and good will such a small place could give off before making her way to the shoe rental counter. She already knew he wasn't here, without really opening her mind and probing around. Perks of being connected to someone's mind. This didn't throw off her momentum any as there could have been any number of reasons why he didn't get here before she did. Although she had thought that he might beat her here. Silently, she wished that he would have waited a few minutes for her finish up with Carol before leaving, that way they could have just arrived together. Selfishly, she hadn't even seen if anyone else wanted to come along. Feeling a breath of guilt, she pushed it away before approaching the rental counter. Sending a little bounce into her step, the dazzling smile she proposed onto the kid behind the counter made him pause for a second in what he was doing. Shaking the stupid off of himself, he returned the smile, a blush coming to his cheeks.

"Size 7?" Slipping her delicate fingers into her back pocket she extracted the amount necessary to pay for the skate rental. Idly, she let her thoughts drift to Logan in a pair of these babies. The image of The Wolverine skating around brought a near bubble of a laugh to her lips, though she was able to suppress it. She managed to shove the image away, and replace it with a slightly more masculine one. Ice hockey. She could definitely see him knocking some guy's teeth out in pursuit of a tiny hockey puck. The boy took her money, and she took the skates, making her way over to a bench to lace them up. The redhead kept herself mentally open to those around her. She heard children babbling, their minds filled with the excitement of not falling down, she heard a man seeking another, a woman surprised upon finding another, all in the span of a few seconds. None of it was nefarious enough to slow the woman from taking her shoes off and setting them aside while she slowly and deliberately laced up her ice skates.

Once that was completed, she sat up a bit straighter and just watched the scene unfold before her. The chill that came from the rink had started to seep into her skin, as she was only located at a bench a few feet away. Resisting the urge to rub friction into her skin as a form of making herself feel better, she pondered tying her hair back, dismissed the thought, then idly moved her significantly heavily feet this way and that while she waited.

OOC: Technically Wolverine's already there per the Gambit post, but I managed to give a reason why Jean didn't sense him if that works for you, Carol.

Wolverine would be honest when he wanted to be. He didn’t know how to ice skate. Sure he was from Canada. Sure hockey was a big thing. But when did someone like Wolverine have the time to figure out how to ice skate when he was too busy killing people, mind-wiped, experimented upon, and then ripped to pieces by various villains? Mr. Do-It-All could do a lot, or else Logan liked to think of himself that he could, but ice-skating… Meh. It’d be a new thing for him—a great experience to finally learn, officially. He figured he could do it, but not very well. Maybe in the process he would actually smile! Maybe he’d jump for joy! And when all of that happened, maybe he could tip-toe around daisies and frolic with butterflies! Oh Em Gee! Notice the sarcasm? Logan truly wasn’t looking forward to ice skating. He thought of it as… something girly. Something Jean would like. That was the only reason he was here.

Logan closed the door in some random car he chose to drive to the rink. He grimaced at all the people, already imagining the overwhelming scent of body odor, pheromones, expired antiperspirant, and overpowering cologne. Heaving a sigh, he went to the counter to “check out” skates, answering all the brief questions before he was given his wares in exchange for cash. There was a very likely chance if Logan knew who was sponsoring the off-season skating rink to be open; he would have left in a heartbeat. He had already popped up on Kelly’s senate speech alongside Psylocke and Snowbird during the entire “anti-mutant” debate. The last thing he wanted was to be showing his support to a man who wanted his death by skating on the same rink that same man was sponsoring. Maybe he should just turn back. He was already getting agitated enough, and he had yet to put on his skates. The thought was tempting, but… double meh.

Wolverine slipped on the skates, ignoring the rush of the earsplitting sound of blades skidding on ice. He instead focused on the jovial laughter that overwhelmed the area. Laughs, giggles, the cries of surprise, and even the few wails of pain. Listening to others being happy lifted his spirits, somewhat. If he even knew what he was getting himself into…

First thing was first. He had to figure out if he could even skate before he made an ass of himself in front of Jean. The people on the rink were going in a sickening spiral. Knowing some of them were going just a bit too fast for his beginner tactics, he stepped on the ice with his blades, sticking close to the wall as he found his balance on the thin metal blades. He decided if he wasn’t trained in agility, he wouldn’t even stand a hell of a chance. He moved one step after the other, watching the feet of others that skated around him. He managed to gain the motion—one swift step of the other. One swoosh, one push, one second glide, and switch to the next foot, bent knees and all. Easy enough.

Logan circled with the rest, casually losing his balance here and there before stepping back and regaining his composure. Concentrating on the act of actually moving, he barely missed the one thing that should have alerted him that something was off. Silver Fox. He wasn’t even sure what registered the name to pop in his head. Did someone look like her? Did he hear her voice? Did he unconsciously register the smell of her scent? Whatever it was, Logan skidded to a halt, peering through the crowd while sniffing. It was the scent. A girl’s perfume that he followed was hiding Fox’s smell, but he managed to tag the scent, following it closer to the middle of the ice before he spied the woman… with… that girl. The one that insisted she had to kill him.

Damn it all to hell, Logan thought. Oh, no, he couldn’t actually just go and skate. He had to stumble upon mini-killer and an ex-lover. Wonderful timing. Swallowing back a bitter taste, he skidded over to the pair, eyeing Fox and cautiously watching X-23. Was it sad to think maybe X-23 perished in the Weapon X explosion? “You lived,” he said to the younger girl, making sure to add in his sense of disappointment. Last time he recalled seeing her, he speared her through her abdomen when she (according to Logan’s interpretation) lunged at him. He was expecting a scene, but maybe he could to something to… diffuse the situation. X-23 was wearing skates. Obviously she was here to skate, right?

“And you’re here.” Logan was good at stating the obvious. He patted his waist, realizing he wasn’t carrying Fox’s gun with him. Panic hazard, after all, at a very public skating rink. Logan did notice a difference to Fox. She had lost her edge, the cold and haunting figure he had last seen diminished into the one he… remembered. “What happened? If Sinister did anything…” He hid a growl. That was the only explanation he had. Nothing Wolverine said in the past obviously infiltrated in her head. He was lucky enough to get her to actually see the cabin when he knew she still didn’t believe him. Sinister and his little experiments. Who knew what he had that could actually go into Fox’s head.

A familiar tickle pricked inside his head and gently passed. Disturbed, he glanced around, noticing Jean’s presence, but his sudden rush of adrenaline had triggered his mind to suddenly shield itself. With so many people around (and judging from the quick scan), he would be easy to miss.

Flamin’ awful timing. Fantastic.

It was quite uncanny how much luck the Cajun charmer really had. On any other date and time his harsh words towards Fox in Laura’s presence would’ve left him finding it hard to speak without any vocal cords. Today his scolding went unnoticed to the young feral as she was most concerned with the reunion between Fox and herself. Back in their days at Weapon-X Laura looked up to Silver Fox like an older sister. Admiring the strength she had even when bound down by her captives gave Laura something to aspire for. To stand strong even when being beat down, in a figure of speaking. But like most positive influences in her life fate would separate them and send Laura back into the world to survive on her own. It was a pattern she had become so accustom to that any hope of seeing Silver Fox again had been washed away into the waters of her escape. ‘Fate’ still had a few more FUs to send her way as neither females were themselves today. One missing all the troubles that turned her into a child fueled by rage and bloodshed, while the other was missing all memories from recent time. Hearing Fox had been injured and was unaware of who Laura was saddened her for about a few seconds before the effects of the rink took effect. Shrugging it off she just smiled and shook her head, “No. We’re not related. We were…” Her lips were parted to speak the name of Weapon-X, but so much of her pain and suffering had been caused by that name that anything attached to it was completely clouded in her mental fog. “…friends awhile back.” There was some frustration felt at not knowing where they met one another…or why she couldn’t remember.

“You were found in a…desert?” A flash of a desert instantly struck her mind but it was quickly overtaken by the fog again. A small ping of pain in the back of her head feeling like a very small headache growing larger. She touched her forehead and dropped her gaze for a moment before coming back up to meet eyes with Fox. Her face wasn’t happy and jovial as before. Confusion was attached into her features that depend with each question that had been asked of her. “I’m…” X-23….Talon…once again she was met with names that she should be able to recall but was finding it hard to. Both coated in much blood. Laura had always felt like the more foreign name to her but it was the only one she could speak that no ill memory had been attach to. A name given by her mother. “…Laura. Laura Kinney.” Though her answers came out with only a hint of hesitation, there was a bigger mental struggle emerging in her mind. A struggle to pierce the fog she had been placed in to find the truth. Standing at Fox’s side, Laura tried to help her friend balance herself against the ice they stood on. Looking in the direction the smell of the Cajun had blown she finally noticed the man no longer standing beside them. “Oh I’m sorry, did I interrupt you and your friend’s talk?” If Fox had lost her memory then it wouldn’t be wise to leave her alone. Since the red eyed man was no longer around Laura felt the need to stay at her friend’s side should find herself in trouble. First things first, they needed to get off of the ice. “I think we should get you to the sidelines. I’m sure they have a pair of skates for you too.” As soon as she turned to lead Fox safely to the outside of the rink she froze in place and took a few sniffs of the air before one longer one. Two familiar scents had stopped her in mid-stride and neither held any good memories attached to them.

One scent was actually a mixture of both. Scent of a redhead…a female…that had been awfully close to the other scent…a male who smelled more like an animal. An image of the woman’s face appeared in her mind where she stood in the same desert she saw when Silver Fox mentioned one. Wait…Silver Fox was there too…with the redheaded woman. Her own mind fighting to see through the fog while it continued to get thicker and thicker around her memories. Letting go of her hold on Silver Fox she did not move too far away as the mental battle raged on. It was the second scent drawing closer to her that hit the hardest of all. His face burned into her mind as well as being the origin of a large portion of her pain. “Logan…” She whispered in a growl before appeared from the crowd, able to pull the name through the fog. Head pounding as the mental war became more real.

“You lived.”

Like a mental trigger her eyes turned a crimson red as the rage burned through the fog while she looked down towards the ground. A reply started as a growl in her throat before her mouth parted to speak, “No thanks to you.” Swimming in the mix of so many options she felt as if she was losing it. Like her mind would rip itself apart. An urge to kill this man…an urge to go to him for answers…an urge to cut her flesh to relieve the pain…what was happening to her? She wanted to forget her pain…but she needed to remember the truth. Needed to feel the rage, the pain, all the things that made her who she was. All the things that made her strong. Another growl was made a bit deeper than her first one from the pain that crippled her mind. “Make…it….stop…” She wished she could allow herself to be lost in the fog again. But standing here confronted with so many people that caused so many bad memories she was finding it harder and harder to forget.

She'd been abandoned. It was something that had happened very quickly and Fox was trying very hard to keep calm. She wasn't the hysterical sort, but this had been a very, /very/ trying day. Fox was starting to think that maybe she was better off holing up somewhere until she could come up with a more solid game plan. Oh, coming up with things on the fly was a talent of hers, but it was very difficult to keep rolling with the punches when all the hits were meant to be K.O.s. Concentrating on not having a meltdown in front of this nice-looking girl here, Fox made a note to never ever leave Zero's side again. She didn't know what was between them, but she knew with a dead certainty that if he'd been here there would have been no argument and no leaving her in the middle of..of..

&%* Where /was/ this?

It was hard to say whether Gambit would have carried on the same way if he knew the extent of Fox's, erm, problem. Fox was willing to bet, at this point, that everything would have happened the same way except the strange-eyed man would have been just that much more satisfied in leaving her clueless ass stranded. All was not completely lost. She did not have the security of Zero's presence and calm, but she had this nice girl here.

“No. We’re not related. We were…” - “…friends awhile back.”

Oh? Well that was good news! Gambit had left, but now she had this new friend here. Assuming that her gifts were not failing her, Fox detected no deceit. Fox was still feeling stressed and a bit overwhelmed, but she felt much more adept at keeping a freak out at bay. She had to be a good model for her young friend right? If she had a nervous fit then she'd worry the girl and then they'd both have a problem because Fox couldn't explain her situation very well.

“You were found in a…desert?”

Silver Fox nodded. "Yes, a man named Agent Zero saved me. But then that man, Gambit, brought me here and now I am...lost." And really not too far from having a nervous breakdown so please, /please/ girl don't leave me here. Fox prayed that the girl wouldn't feel the urge to just go too. The image of a stranded and era-ignorant Silver Fox was not a pretty one. Nor was the probably aftermath. A panicked feral was all this place needed right now. Animal instincts, crowded area...not a good combination...

Fox wondered if the girl wasn't ill or had a pain in her head. She seemed to been in..pain? No..confused? Frustrated? ...she'd only asked for a name.. “I’m…” - “…Laura. Laura Kinney.”

"Well, good to see you again Laura Kinney." Previously, Fox's accent had long since faded, but now little hints of the Blackfoot tongue seeped into her speech. She was clear and understandable, but her English was also very simple. Like a very cautious foreigner's might be when testing out the language in fluent conversation.

“Oh I’m sorry, did I interrupt you and your friend’s talk?”

Dry look. "I would not call it a 'talk'." Irritated and ticked off as she was, the Native American beauty /really/ wished that the thief hadn't left her here to her own devices. Irony. She was more stressed with him gone than she had been while he was here, testing her temper by insulting her.

“I think we should get you to the sidelines. I’m sure they have a pair of skates for you too.”

'Skates'. Those funny shoes with the metal on the bottom. Fox wondered if she wasn't better off without the odd items, but humored the girl as she lead the boot-clad woman off the ice. Silver Fox 'skated' well without shoes, but she'd stand out a little more than she'd want if she didn't cooperate and learn how to 'skate' with those things on. The girl, no, /Laura/, stopped short though and Fox only barely managed to stop herself instead gliding some more and dragging Laura with her. Fox was about to ask what was wrong when the scent hit her. Jean's scent meant nothing to the woman at the moment, the soft scent ringing no bells.

But the other scent..

Fox's legs nearly gave out. The one person she wasn't ready to see - Great Spirit, she never thought that she would ever have such a thought! - and he was here. Seriously. Did Gambit run off because of him? Had Gambit managed to contact and get the man here that quickly? Fox was a high flight risk right now, but her pride and personality kept her from actually running away. For now.

For now she focused on breathing evenly and not working herself into a frenzy. She remembered talking with Zero, remembered words of not being able to have her past back. Her life back. That all she knew was..no more or, if not that, not as it was. And she knew, just knew, that Logan had to be one of those things. Zero's body language and willingness to let her put off the reunion said that all things were not well here. Fox had wanted to wait until she could mentally prepare herself for the crippling, emotionally-fatal possibility of Logan no longer being within her reach. The possibility of him not loving her anymore..of him...moving on with another.

In her present mental/memory state, Fox couldn't fathom how anything short of death had torn them apart. I can't do this, she thought to herself. I'm not ready. Spirits..she'd /never/ be ready.

He appeared, handsome and gruff-looking as ever. His scent, his appearance, and her inability to recall anything beyond the golden era of their love. I can't do this; I'm not ready. Wasn't ready for him to say anything that would prove her worst fears and insecurities, Zero's veiled warnings, true. Spirits, she'd rather him kill her right now than that. Silver Fox was, shock and horror, doing an impressive imitation of a deer caught in headlights, when Laura's voice growled out a low and dark greeting.

“Logan…”

Anger. Loathing. Hatred. Where had her friend gone? This girl here wasn't Laura anymore, not the one she had been with..

“You lived.”

..and that was not the Logan she had left. Those two words and Fox was forced to confront the fact that while she had - from what had been gathered from Zero and Gambit - become a different person entirely...Logan must have changed too. What had decades done to her woodsman lover? A crack in her mind formed. I can't do this.

“No thanks to you.”

“And you’re here.”

She wouldn't know he was looking for a gun, her gun. She'd just as easily assume that he meant to shoot her or Laura if he /had/ pulled it out. Fox wasn't much for conversation right now anyway, too busy staring at Logan in shock, apprehension, and - she couldn't help it - love. Whatever had happened, she couldn't remember. Whoever they had become, both of them - she knew nothing of it. Of course, love was the first thing to pop up. Only it was slowly drowning in a sea of new knowledge, presented facts and inferences, theories, and very probably theories.

“What happened? If Sinister did anything…”

...? Fox's confused expression likely wouldn't help whatever theories were currently running in Logan's head. Speechless still, her mouth opened and closed, her stomach twisting. Go to him! some part of her cried. Another screamed that she exercise caution. If all she had known was gone or lost to her..he might find it strange. Might push her away. And can you really live with that? the second voice queried. Fox couldn't; it'd destroy her, she knew. So standing there in stunned silence, trying to slow her racing heart and accelerated pulse, was all she did.

Crack. I'm not ready.

But Laura beat her to the breakdown, diverting - thankfully - Fox's attention. “Make…it….stop…”

"Laura!"

Fox glided the very short distance to the girl and pulled her close to her, as if shielding Laura from something. "Do you hear my heart beating?" Fox forced it to slow down, lest the exercise be for naught. It evened out as Fox directed her attentions to the girl with the tightrope psyche. "Listen to it. Listen to /me/. Breathe with me." Previous experience? Not quite! These were nightmare-calming tactics. She'd used them on kids in her tribe, her father...and others. Laura seemed to be in some sort of distress that reminded Fox of how someone stuck in the remnants of a nightmare would. So she reacted accordingly. "Breathe. No one else is here; no one is going to hurt you. You said we are friends, correct? Friends protect each other - I will protect you."

Fox's eyes drifted up as she continued to try and help Laura, Spirits only knew if it was actually helping. Logan..

..and she couldn't breathe again. Silver Fox looked away, lest her heartrate pick up and she ruined her efforts here. Laura wouldn't calm down even slightly if her would-be comforter's heart was beating at such a speed. Ordinarily, this was about where Fox would encourage whoever she was helping to just go back to sleep. That wasn't an option here so the Native American came up with another split-second option.

"Come back to me little one.. Come back to me." Out of character for Fox? Not right now. Right now, Silver Fox was acting exactly as she would have, being the woman that she was in Canada. /This/ was Logan's Fox, back and restored...seriously wary, extremely lost, and oh so very confused.

Now then. Laura would either calm down...or skewer Silver Fox. Stranger things have happened today.

The handling was heavy and sluggish, when compared to what he was used to back ‘home’, but the borrowed bike was still well under his control as he leaned his way around the corners, weaving his way through the Rockefeller Centre. His meandering path just lacked direction, as he had no leads to go on – he was a stranger in a strange land after all – but the fleeting flash of red locks he caught from the driver’s seat travelling past him was enough to cause him to change direction and follow. For just that moment he thought ‘Was it’? It was a chance in a million, but he had nowhere else to be…

Pulling off into an alleyway, he was able to swing the bike a full 180 degrees, before pulling back out into the opposite lane. He was ten cars behind, if not more, but swerving through the couple in front of him allowed Scott to spot the redheads car as she pulled into the parking lot and he duly followed. The parking lot made it much easier to follow her, as the traffic thinned down to virtually just the two of them, and as Jean Grey stepped out and closed the door, she would barely have noticed the man with the blackened visor ride slowly past her.

It was her – Jean Grey. She’d haunted his dreams long before he’d even met her, and whilst she’d been a prisoner under his jurisdiction, the first romantic notions began to appeal to him. She looked different now, of course, with a full head of long tumbling locks replacing, the short efficient look he had known her to wear, and now lacking the red warpaint tattoo from over her eye. There was no question it was her, and if she survived here, then what of the others, such as Alex.

He parked the bike a safe distance away and began to follow her. Of course, he knew she was a telepath, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t been trained for that. He’d tracked down all mutants of all powers as he followed hid duties to the letter, and the problem with telepaths was they always knew when you were coming, plus he had to work all day with the presence of the brain trust monitoring the neural output of the pens. Of course, all the Mutant Elite Force had been implanted with blockers for this, but Sinister had also taught him a few ways you could avoid detection and keep yourself a little more too yourself. Pushing Jean Grey from the periphery of his mindscape, he continued on at a safe distance.

Of course, to look at, he stuck out as an odd figure; clad head to foot in black and with the tinted visor of the helmet concealing his damaged eye and face. His scent should have been disguised away as well, thanks to the borrowed clothing where some fifteen years and change of blood and sweat from the original owner should have been comfortably masking Scott’s own aroma.

Wade hummed to himself, bored, aimless while waiting his cue. So, leaning over the railing, the Merc spied with his little eye something that started with... hat! "Yoink." Like fishing for hats in a barrel. No, really, it was. Man never saw it coming. Felt it going, but never saw it coming.

Straightening up, giving the ol' brown brim a tug, Wade looked at a nearby voyeur with a grin behind his charming mask. "Well?"

A disgruntled, wary look was all he got before the man stood and strode away. "Bet you're a riot at parties," Wade grunted, finding this place just full of dead weight and wet blankets. The type that hid under their beds and went crying to mommy because the world was too scary.

Rolling his attention back toward the rink, he lifted the accessory from his head and dropped it back down into the extended arms of its owner that'd been shouting and hooting about someone stealing his precious article of clothing. It only took a second before Wade leaned back over to confront the man face to face, "Next time get that thing cleaned before I steal it." Or stop using so much damn gel. He could feel it oozing through his hood and into his scalp. It wasn't toxic was it?

Then, at last, his SAVIOR had arrived. Wade jumped up straight and waved his arms all up and down, side to side, trying to get short, gruff, and smelly to notice him up high.

"For a man that can spot a sniper a mile away in a jungle you're ridiculously BLIND when you want to be, Logan," Wade snapped before giving his arms a rest and crossing them over his chest. Throw two pretty female ferals at him and... whoa, wait a minute. Rewind... Rewind... Two gorgeous, young-- "DAMN YOU."

He leaped over the rail in a single bound, bolted passed befuddled and clueless visitors faster than a large, tubby man for ice cream, and foraged the exotic jungles of civilization to do nothing less than GET. TO. THE. RINK. Naturally this involved bull rushing several people, an elbow to the face, and spilling no less than four beverages in someone's lap while deftly "borrowing" a hotdog--which, by the way, had vanished before the next paragraph.

Why such a flurry of activity? Wade wouldn't dare let Logan suffer such TERRIBLE company alone. Oh, no, he was too good of a FRIEND for that.

Oh. Oh, but then one of them had a mental breakdown. Deadpool could handle that. Why he was the foremost expert in the Sane. Another, sane soul being driven insane by all the sane people around her; Wade Wilson to the rescue! Pretty lady.

Hopping the rink barrier, the Red and Black Merc double timed it over the ice with gusto, arms pumping and feet in a flurry as he scurried over the slick surface. Here he came to save the da--

SHIT.

"Whoa~! OW," Wade cried as his feet went forward and his head went the other direction before his back hit the icy surface full contact. That, however, was only his patented beginning. Newton had once said to young Wilson, objects in motion stayed in motion... until they blew someone's head clean off their FUCKING SHOULDERS. At least, he thought it had been Newton.

The Merc with a Mouth cried with glee as he skidded across the ice a short distance straight at the huddle mass of man-wolf-cat. His prone figure came to a dead stop in the center of attention, right where he liked to be. A witty entrance, however, was cut off by the sudden realization of his particular placement. Wade's eyes drifted up and to the side... was he laying beneath two women? "Hello, Nurses."

There came a time, when Jean stopped her piddling around and actually thought about it. Logan really should have been there by now, and she was being a fool if she didn't make sure that everything was alright. She had her cell with her. And while she loved the technology, she employed the use of her mutant powers even more. Eyes fluttering closed for a bit, she stretched out her awareness, searching specifically for Logan. Of course, due to his close proximity and the concentration of her powers, it didn't take her long at all to find him. Her eyes snapped open in the direction of his mental signature, and she wrinkled her nose at the fact that he must have in some way shielded from her, that she didn't sense he was close when he had arrived. Or maybe, he had been there all along and she just didn't think he would start without her. For a moment, she waited, because the scene that was panning out before her was not really making much sense. Suddenly, as though someone had slid a sharp needle into her fully inflated balloon, all of the good feelings she had previously been feeling started escaping.

She had picked up in the brief scan of Logan's mind upon the initial search, he was on ...alert, so to speak. His mind projected the feeling that she thought about when a cat was all fluffed up. There was a woman, possessing dark wiles and a smaller girl with her. The older woman looked familiar, but it would take her a moment of sifting through her memory banks for the connection. Without much hesitation, she pushed her awareness outward, testing their general signatures without really probing. Just then, the girl went into some sort of distress. Her mind screamed outwards in...anger? Jean rose to her feet so quickly she wasn't even really aware that she had moved. Jeweled hued eyes staying locked on the trio, she started to move forward, approaching the ice with little hesitation. Entering the rink, she pushed herself off of the entrance and over to the side. On the ice, Jean was a dream. She looked very much like she was floating, the natural motion that her feet made lending very little to the opinion that she felt awkward. In all reality, she was cheating. Very much like soaring her body through the air with the aid of her telekinesis, she was using her TK to keep her balance centered perfectly. Her skates were still on the ice, her feet still moved but she supported her body with her abilities. She just didn't want to take the chance that something would happen, bad and she would fall on her ass because she wasn't paying attention to the ice.

Logan had to know that she was here, and she tried to not let a frown crease her forehead. So, he hadn't called for any type of assistance...she stayed back by the wall, one hand bracing herself as though she was taking a break. She tried to keep her eyes light, and centering anywhere really instead of the trio. She was as well, doing what she could to divert the situation. Her mind was busy at work, touching on as many people as she could, if they seemed like they were noticing the trio too much, she was diverting their attention elsewhere. Basically making the trio as invisible as possible as the person would just find something else more interesting to look at whenever their eyes laid on any of the three ferals. At nearly the same time, another man came tripping over everyone, Logan's name having fallen from his lips. Good Lord, was this some sort of trick? Ha Ha Jean, let's go on a date. By the way, I need help with a few mentally unstable people. Ever so often, she would flicker her eyes to the group itself, still keeping her position poised as naturally as possible on the sidelines. She didn't mistake the ruffling of emotions coming from Fox. That was her name. The way she was giving Logan googly-eyes made her bristle briefly, but for now she would stay where she was. As if it wasn't obvious enough to him by now, she sent out a small tendril of thought that really had nothing to do with their link.

~I'm here, just give me the word.~

Still doing what she could for crowd control, it seemed that it was working. Most of the people didn't even act like they had any real clue what was going on. Even the ones that had approached the fully wiped-out male avoided him with the thought that he was just clumsy on the ice and not acting like a raving lunatic. Fairly preoccupied, she didn't take any more notice to outside forces that might be paying attention.

Seeing the little feral get angry wasn’t any different than the countless other ferals he had seen go ballistic. From Wendigos to Sasquatches, every one had some inner beast telling them what to do. Even as X-23 slipped into her hunger by the mere sight of him, Logan only watched, concerned more about the people around him rather than the girl herself. Keeping a weary on her, he noticed Fox staring at him in what seemed to be… shock? He would have said something on the lines of, Got somethin’ on my face? given she had never stared him like (from what he remembered) before. He was convinced Sinister had definitely done something to her. There was no edge, no violence, and no… feral-ness in her. It seemed X-23 had absorbed every ounce of it from Fox and into herself.

Fox screamed out Laura, and it took Logan a moment to figure out who that was. Watching Fox go to X-23, Wolverine was for a lost of words. Not that he couldn’t properly think, he was just… not capable in dealing with this situation, at least for now. Down time was down time. Attack time was attack time. Logan’s “personal time” was to remain undisturbed, unless the world was getting ready to end. What he saw here… the only thing that ended was X-23’s sanity and Fox’s cold bravado. Fox went into mother mode, another new concept for Logan, as she tended to X-23 as if she was a child. Again, Logan would have said something, Yer huggin’ the girl that could cut ya to pieces?, but he remained quiet. Something was… definitely off. And the screams of a red and black clad man only forced Logan to groan.

“My personal time,” Logan said, aiming to cut off a finger with his skates as he moved to skate away after Deadpool’s slide and exclamation, “don’t involve you.”

He made his move to get away, leaving the dramatic girl to be with Mama Fox and Dense-in-the-head-pool. Besides, he was here for different reasons. Skating past others who were seemingly blind to the commotion, he softly skidded to a halt beside Jean, hearing her voice moments before in his head. He wasn’t sure what to say, but he finally forced words out of his mouth. “I’m not sure if I should apologize or tell myself told ya so.” The entire “things will never be normal with Jean, Logan,” that “something will always happen around Jean, Logan,” or “stay away because your life is just going to too damn dramatic more so with Jean, Logan” thought process. In the end he decided she was worth it, but at the same time… Told ya so. “Sorry,” he mumbled. It seemed to be the right thing to say. Besides, it was a guy exit; always say sorry to a woman if you’re not sure what to say. The woman was always right. Yadayada. But on a more serious self-reflection moment, Logan tightened his lips. “Think it’s always gonna end up like this?” He lifted a nostril while crossing his arms over his chest. “Never a moment to ourselves, never bein’ able to get away… Seems kinda sad we get a chance to go out and I don’t even remember how to smile.” How… painfully insightful, really. Logan raised an eyebrow then frowned. He used his elbow in an attempt to playfully push Jean. “Friggin’ made me a softy around you. Hmph.”

Even as he talked he was watching the scenario play itself out. He couldn’t very well start skating. The mood had been killed and he couldn’t act as if he could ignore… well, the entire center of the ring. But at the same time, he refused to get himself involved, even if he felt he couldn't leave. He was here for Jean and to be with Jean, and not… to babysit a girl, worry about an ex-love, and be the jovial outlet for a wise-cracking Deadshit. For some reason those seemed to be the big three for him. Babsit, worry, and be a joke. “Next time, yer namin’ the place. I suck at this datin’ thing.” He hadn’t been on a decent date in… well, ever. Hm. He really did suck.

Fox was trying to comfort the girl and calm her down lest something unfortunate happen. Laura, as guilty as Fox felt admitting it, only had the majority of her attentions, maybe even half. It was hard not to glance up every five seconds at the man who possibly wasn't hers to have anymore. It was just a hard pill to swallow, it was glass shards shoved down her throat. She had yet to think of anything to say, a proper greeting or how to get /anything/ out without ending up asking him if they could just go home now.

Everything came to a halt though as some strange man slid up to them. He didn't slide on skates though..he came up on his back. Fox could only blink down at the man. Predictably, Fox had no idea who the man was. Her whole self was familiar with the mouthy mercenary though. They'd only met in person on rare occasions and none of those meetings had ended well. The icy mercenary, naturally, didn't blend well with Deadpool and he had, on each of those rare confrontations, ended up agitating her. The run-ins had all ended with Fox shooting at Deadpool with partial intent to kill and partial desire to just make him leave her be.

This version of the Native American just stared at the man blankly, confused curiosity quite plain. He was laying right there, but didn't seem at all bothered by the slick ice he was on or hurt by the slip-n-slide scenario at all.

"Hello, Nurses."

Blink. Pause. ...?

"I am sorry, but I am not a nurse." But maybe Laura was? What? Fox wouldn't know that what Wade said was just an expression.

"Are you hurt?" He didn't /seem/ injured, but it wouldn't hurt to ask, right?

“My personal time,” -- “don’t involve you.”

It was hard to say who he was talking to, but Fox felt a knife just the same. And then he skated away.

Fox only watched with wide eyes for all of five seconds before deciding that, despite everything, she had to say /something/. She couldn't look back at this moment and know that she'd just watched him go. She wasn't ready and she didn't know what to say or how to explain it, but Fox had to go anyway. She had her pride, her nature. It wasn't normal for her to just let something go like this. She'd just..wing it. She'd wing it and see if what the agent man had said was really true. She would have to find out at some point right?

So why didn't that make her feel any better?

Fox turned to Laura, who was hopefully feeling a little calmer, a little better. "Wait for me." If this went south, then she didn't want to be stranded.

And so, stupidly, the woman skated - sort of since she still had no skates - after Logan. Fox's pursuit came to a grinding halt as Logan stopped by a redhead. A very pretty redhead that seemed to be expecting him. A soft push - playful. Something about being a softy. He used to talk to her in that tone, though the playful nudging was usually her doing.

Something about dating..date. This was a date; Fox knew what that was. A term white men used to describe going somewhere or doing something with their girlfriend. Some activity to be enjoyed together. With your girlfriend or some girl you /wanted/ to be your girlfriend. Honestly, it didn't matter. It was enough; it was more than enough.

There was indeed a lot lost that she couldn't have back, Zero had been right after all. It seemed Logan was...something she couldn't have back. It was like some cosmic joke and all that could have possibly gone wrong since losing her memory could - and had, apparently - gone wrong. And that lightly cracking sensation, as she stared at Logan with the beautiful redhead, turned into creaking. Ominous creaking, but only in her head.

Usually, in these situations, one would collapse to the ground, screaming and grabbing at one's head. However, Fox didn't do this. Her eyes went blank and she turned white as sheet. Her head hurt, her stomach hurt - was she about to throw up? Maybe she'd luck out and pass out..and never wake up again. Or she'd dream of past times and never wake again. This was no dream; dreams don't hurt in this sickeningly realistic way. Oddly enough, on the outside, the dark-haired woman staring at some unknown point, only seemed to be disoriented or maybe just spacing out a great deal.

In her head, this Fox retreated. She backed away, unable to cope. The Cosmic Cube's handy organization system kicked in and this Fox's memories and knowledge went back into the box it had been categorized into.

And a new box opened.

It was a shame. Logan had done well to just skate away from the potential madness and over to Jean. And yet..the madness would follow him anyway. Tsk.

Warm lakes did not regain their icy indifference. They sharpened into something dangerous, tumultuous waters that only the mad waded into. 'Awake', the woman called Silver Fox smiled a slightly disturbed smile. ^Tsk, tsk, little woman - I'll take care of things now.^ *Insert internal chuckle*

Sliding, since it's not really skating if you don't have skates, back over to Laura and Deadpool, it was apparent that something very wrong was going on. The warm, if lost, aura was gone. Evaporated. Poof! Or something like that. A distorted one was in its place, writhing and twisting and generally not holding still at all, but still in one piece. This was not a broken woman, but her memories weren't perfect either. Far from it. Fox smiled a perfectly unstable smile that suggested she was about to do something unpleasant.

"Do you want to have some fun?"

||This is a very good idea.||

Mental scoff. ^Well no one asked /you/^.

||This will not end well.||

^Yeah, well if Little Miss In-Love there had kept it together, you wouldn't have this problem now would you?^

||She can't help it||.

^She should learn to help if she wants to last more than a day.^

||She'll be fine eventually.||

^... Do you /really/ want to watch Tinkerbell go for it again? Should I redirect our gaze to Logan and the redhead, see what happens?^ No response. Fox scoffed, but out loud this time. ^I didn't think so.^ /Anyway/. "Let's have some 'fun'." Fun for her, not necessarily the people at the rink as a whole. Tinkerbell was a nice girl and watching her break wasn't as fun as it could have been. Different shades of blue stared at Deadpool, down at him if he'd yet to get up. One orb was a placid silvery blue, the other was more blue than silver. You could hardly tell the difference if you weren't staring...or if she wasn't staring at /you/.

"Can I borrow your skates?" This may or may not be a good idea, given the air she was giving off. She certainly wasn't going to just skate around with them. Granted, if Deadpool didn't give them to her something unpleasant might happen anyway...

The mind was truly more fragile than some would come to believe. An important part of the human body as it was the acting mainframe of all the inner workings. Without it we’d be nothing more than a lifeless shell. Important yet still very fragile and easy to break given the right tool to shatter it. Proof of that was shown in the vessel that was Laura Kinney. A child that had been put under such mental and physical trauma as a child, along with the constant manipulation of her genetics and mental control left her with a mind that was far from stable or close to normal standards. Her mind was fragile if not already partially shattered and her grip on control was always unstable even on good days. A trigger scent was built into her senses that would turn her into a soulless killer, feral instincts could turn her animalistic nature on without warning, along with the inability to process normal feelings and one could see how her mind was not the most promising playground for a mental war to occur. So as her own mind fought to heal itself by regaining the pieces of her memory that had been clouded, another force tried to take those memories as quickly as she could regain them. Her mind was being ripped from one end to the other and it was causing her already fragile mind to completely fall to pieces. She was losing grip on it all and this would cause her to become a greater danger to those around her as each second passed. An anchor was what she needed. Something to latch onto. Grounding herself before she was lost in this sea of mental chaos.

"Do you hear my heart beating?"….."Listen to it. Listen to /me/. Breathe with me."….."Breathe. No one else is here; no one is going to hurt you. You said we are friends, correct? Friends protect each other - I will protect you."

Laura was so out it she didn’t even know she had been taken into the consoling grasp of Silver Fox initially. All her attention had been sucked so deep into her mind that it was as if nothing else around her existed. But through the mental battlefield she could hear the thumping of the woman’s heart. Pounding into her heightened eardrum drowning out all else. Teeth clinched together like an animal about to attack its prey did not bold well for the success of the tactic. Yet as the beat of her heart slowed so did her own. Latching onto the sound of her heart she used it as an anchor to build some grounding to stand upon. Her body jerked slightly as it tried to fight itself to calm along with the beat of the woman’s heart. Her muscles tried to loosen up but she was still breaking apart inside her head.

"Come back to me little one.. Come back to me."

Her voice had been drowned out by the sound of her heart but the last words spoken came out perfectly clear. Only it wasn’t Fox’s voice that she heard. No the voice she heard was from far into her past. It was the sound of her mother’s voice. A voice that was like a beacon shinning through the fog of her mind. Pulling back Laura looked into the face of the woman before her and saw someone else standing in her place. Her skinned became paler as her eyes turned a green that mirrored Laura’s. “Mom…” She mouthed in silence. Never before had she called Sarah by the title. But greeted with her face before her it was such a natural reaction she spoke it before she even thought of it. For a moment she was standing in the arms of her mother. She was safe and the redness of her eyes was completely gone. But the ‘moment’ was quickly interrupted by the intrusion of the Merc with a Mouth. Wade’s voice broke the tricks her mind was playing on her. Quickly bringing her back to reality cured of the fog that had been placed over the dark events of her past. Taking a step back she took a moment to shake the cobwebs loose from her thoughts, trying to make sense of what just occurred. Old Laura returned meant she was quick to annoy as she always had been. Dropping her gaze to the body lying on the ice who had interrupted her moment of peace quickly caused her much annoyance. His head was at perfect angle for her to give a good swift kick to his temple…with the claw in her foot extended as she did so. Still trying to make sense of things all he got was a disgusted growl sent in his direction as her eyes quickly moved to the people around her. They all seemed so blind to anything happening around them. Still skating around the rink without much care like she had only moments ago. Something was very eerie about this place. It smelled worse than the rotten skin of the man at her feet.

Scanning the area brought her attention back upon the figure of her creation. The basis of her genetic makeup. She stared at the man as he stood with the redheaded woman she could now recall from the battle at Weapon-X. She heard Fox ask for her to wait but she did nothing to respond as she watched the other two interact with one another. Their body language suggested that the two were here as a couple. Or at least to some degree two people infatuated with one another. Laura had little care for what brought either of them here. Pulled back into her mind she continued to make the decision of what she wished to do about this man. Logan. Kill, hug or kill. History told that either decision would not end without some blood being spilled. Wondering if he even knew of what or who she really was. Would he even care? And for that matter why did she? The man was the center of attention for Laura, Silver Fox and the unknown redhead. He was only one man and yet he had such an impact on the lives of those who’s paths he crossed. Mostly negative from her scoreboard. At the moment she could thank him. His presence did the trick to break her out of whatever had taken control of her mind. But her urge to return the favor of slamming her own claws into his body kept her at bay from dare getting close enough to him. What did catch her attention was the frozen image of Silver Fox as she too watched the interaction of the two as well. She may not have crumbled to the ground but even without her senses picking up the change in her body chemistry Laura could still see that the woman had been affected by what she saw. And not in a positive manner.

As the dark haired returned something seemed off. While unsure of whether it was an outcome of seeing Logan with the other woman she just hoped it wasn’t the same infliction she had just freed herself of. Have some fun? Why did that sound so wrong? Still confused as to what was happening she would go along with whatever Fox had planned, nodding to signify her yes. Her friend has just saved her from the unknown and there was no way she would turn her back on her now. A fake smile placed on her face so not to show her concern. Her eyes dropped to the man dressed in red and black at her feet as Fox asked for his shoes. “Before you answer just know that either decision will result in her gaining your skates. Whether or not your feet are still attached to them when she does is the real question.” Her tone had lost all joy it once held. And the smile that she gave him was far from sweet.

"Oo, hey," Wade cried as Logan stomped down on the ice trying to sever a finger. The masked man held up his left hand and wiggled his index finger victoriously while still laying prone beneath the ladies. "Don't worry, little index finger, I won't let that mean, grumpy, OLD man hurt you. Oh, no, no, no. After all, you're SOOOO cute when pulling the triggers of fully automatic, large caliber, hollow point, high velocity rounds that not only knock a man's head off, but that of his every man standing within a five foot radius of them as I laugh maniacally."

"Are you hurt?"

Wide, white eyes looked up at the gorgeous woman Logan had just up and abandoned on the ice. A soft sigh blew out into the chill air as the stuff of magic descended upon them and cast a radiant halo about his fair angel-not-nurse. "Only wounded in spirit, my Lady. I beseech you, hold me," Deadpool pleaded, both arms reaching up from the icy surface toward the fair maiden.

Say, what was up with Logan ignoring two cute babes on ice? Was he losing the mojo? Two stunning BABES here. Neon sign much? Damn, they must have history. Oh well, more for 'Pool. Maybe the three of them could make a little history.

"Wait for me."

"Ach, my heart doth bleed. Forsooth I... yearn...eth much... Hey, come back!" Screw the old English. You could have sex speaking Modern English and it was a hell of a lot easier too. Where was one of his pretty girls going? After Logan? Who chased after Logan? Logan was like the Bear men attracted to other men clung to in the night. That or desperate women looking for the rough rider. Alright, so maybe she preferred a different style of introduction. They could start over. Aw, come back...

Rolling over, Wade relieved himself of the cold backboard and chose to stand on his own two feet beside the lovely, if perpetually annoyed, girl... Sex Kitten. New nickname. Worked, yes? It'd be his private name for her. "Se--wha--t's up with that?" He had the distinct impression the private name had nearly gone public. Good save, Wade. Self appreciatory praise made all the difference sometimes.

Fox had gone all stiff like standing there. Logan was with Psycho With Fire woman--Jean Grey right?--and that probably wasn't in Fox's game plan. Wasn't in Wade's plan either. So, the ladies' schedules looked open after all!

"Do you want to have some fun? Let's have some 'fun'."

"I like where your crazed eyes are straying. You know, there's this place downtown--" Nice club, psychotic people, Fox'd fit right in. It'd be a blast!

“Before you answer just know that either decision will result in her gaining your skates. Whether or not your feet are still attached to them when she does is the real question.”

Wade turned and looked at Sex Kitten. "That sounds painful. I like it. Smaaaaaall problem." A pair of skates were held up suspended by the laces tied together. "They're not on my feet. Really, girls, this place downtown I KNOW you'd love it. Kinky, raunchy... every hour's happy hour. Or not so happy. That's the thing about BDS&--" He'd go on for hours, but it was unlikely either crazed girl was up for waiting so the theft of his skates would cut off the ramble.

"So, what sort of fun are we having?" Was Fox going to carve Logan into tiny pieces? He'd seen that happen before. The man didn't die. Could he still feel pain? A man's brain has to just stop registering it after enduring it long enough.

The human brain is a marvel and the standard ‘mind’ will only make use of a relatively small percentage of it. There were rare cases in subjects like Charles Xavier and Emma Frost that they’re mutant powers allowed them to utilise a somewhat greater percentage to access mental powers from it, but in the case of Scott Summers, He’d reached his full potential at the average. And then Scott Summers died in the Nexus of All Reality, but while that Scott crossed over to the afterlife with Death herself, his unused and resurrected body was sent back to whence it came. On the other plane, the Scott Summers that lived there was to be incinerated in the nuclear fire, his mind made an incredible leap…

Of course, it wasn’t as simple as overlaying the original with the new version, as two sets of memories, skills and abilities couldn’t just coexist, it would take time for his brain to fully rewire and connect the conflicting information, but as the black shrouded Cyclops watched Jean Grey move out onto the ice, his mind went into overdrive. The Scott Summers that had lived before had left behind a rich and varied history with the one true love of his life and the psychic rapport they had shared only made it easier his brain to rehabilitate between the different histories the two Scott’s had shared with the redhead, and it was not going a painless process.

She moved across the ice to join a short hairy man he knew as Weapon X and obviously their mutual paths had taken far different routes as he still lacked an eye but X still had the hand Scott had cost him in return, but as far as the others went he couldn’t pick out any of them, save for who he guessed to be a masked Dead Man Wade, the mentally stunted member of the Pale Riders, but as he continued to look on at Jean from a distance, the images started to flash through his head like a montage:

~”Welcome to the X-Men, Miss Grey”~

X-Men? There it was again: the accusation that he was one of Magneto’s rebels, but the man in the chair was bald and had summoned them with his mind. From the time of her joining, he watched from a red-tinted perspective at the time through to their graduation without fully understanding the implications of his counterpart’s actions. The constant fleeting glances he paid her while she wasn’t looking though, would have suggested the affection and fondness that grew into love if Scott had been fully aware, but stuck in front of a screen he could not look away from only caused his brain to burn and throb in pain.

The show wasn’t abating though, as uniforms became individualised and the students moved on, but with it came the first waves of nausea in the depths of his gut and for Scott the need to find somewhere he could recover. Doing his best to concentrate on the real world in front of him he staggered his way towards the restroom, pushing his way through the few people between him and its relative sanctuary to a small chorus of annoyed grunts and threats.

Krakoa came and went – with two different viewpoints that suggested someone had already revised what the body had already experienced – but as Weapon X came into the team the nausea only grew so that Scott clawed at the strap of his helmet until he could pull the matt black dome free from his head and gasp the recycled, air-conditioned oxygen.

Sentinels. Starcore. Jamaica Bay.

Scott retched on an empty stomach over the sink as he watched her sacrifice herself in the shuttle crash, but nothing came forth. The show wasn’t over as the brain wired in more of old Scott’s memories into the fore and became increasingly emotionally involved with images as he processed them; Jean would return like a phoenix from the deep, but the relationship would only darken as a man called Wyngarde came between them. The Phoenix became dark and killed billions before they attempted to rehabilitate her but when things looked bright for them, a menagerie of multicoloured aliens came down from the heaven to claim justice.

They were young, and they were in love, but that day on the move, he was forced to watch as a helpless bystander as the Phoenix took her own life, but in that one moment the psychic rapport opened up again for but a second as he mentally screamed just one word

~”JEAN!!”~

She continued to watch the trio, still unable to really discern what was happening here. Obviously Logan knew the little group, and it didn't look like they were out for each other's throats. Even the girl's outburst, which was full of anger, wasn't really centered -on- anyone in particular. As he turned away from the group to meet up with her, she couldn't help but meet him with a smile. She felt her heart clench just a tiny bit as the previous potential of the encounter started to swell within her again. She wasn't going to get her hopes up too far, though, because the unstable trio was still floating around. Despite their lack of hostility now, it didn't mean it couldn't turn different. Slowly, she began releasing the hold on the mind's that she had affected.

“I’m not sure if I should apologize or tell myself told ya so.”

Her eyes clouded a moment with clear questioning in their depths. “Sorry,” Jean laughed, waving off his apology with a motion of her hand. "You didn't invite them...you don't have anything to apologize for."

“Think it’s always gonna end up like this?” He lifted a nostril while crossing his arms over his chest. “Never a moment to ourselves, never bein’ able to get away… Seems kinda sad we get a chance to go out and I don’t even remember how to smile.”

Gosh, Logan never really spoke that much without a threat laced somewhere in between. It was...nice. Of course, his topic of choice was somewhat melancholy, but it was a start. Before she knew it, his elbow had reached out to push at her gently. Another smile lit her face, and she threw down her TK shielding around herself before he could know that she was faking it, even for a little bit. The result was her being put slightly off balance with his slight push, and her hands whipping out to grip his arms so that she didn't fall back the other direction. Subsequently, it brought them closer together, the lines of their bodies only bare moments apart. She let out a little shaky, breathy laugh.

“Friggin’ made me a softy around you. Hmph.”

Her hold on his arms turned less frantic and more casual. "Don't give up before we've even had a chance to start." The impulse struck her, and she leaned to brush her lips across his in the barest of kisses. The jolt of heat that the simple motion produced made her press her lips together as she pulled away. Crimson colored her cheeks in a bit of embarrassment as well. “Next time, yer namin’ the place. I suck at this datin’ thing.” The warmth of his body left as she moved herself away a couple of feet, teasing him to follow. She wasn't too used to this seduction thing, even if, surrounded by children and on a frozen lake of ice she possessed the skills of a fifteen year old, but it seemed to work for her none the less. She was staying away from that side of the ice that inhabited the trio, but it didn't mean that they couldn't enjoy it a little while they were here. "No, this was a great idea. I was really excited. It isn't us, Logan. It's our responsibilities." She shrugged lightly as though those simple words said it all, the smile still fluttering around her lips.

She didn't keep skating away, because she wanted him to follow. Her side was on the wall, that way they could both keep an eye on the trio still on the ice. Perfect scenario, they would just leave, imperfect, they would start trouble. Jean was ready for either one. At least she was, until a psychic scream ripped through her mind. ~JEAN!~ She cried out, hands going to her head and it was only a miracle of physics, not any grace on her part, that she didn't fall on her butt right there. Ruby locks commanded the view of her face, though her eyes were squeezed shut anyway. She wasn't in any type of real pain, as the call only lasted as long as a breath would take to voice it out. Her mind was suddenly on high alert, eyes bright as she righted herself quickly, one hand gripping the edge of the rink harshly. It was the flavor of the call that had her attention. It was so painfully familiar. Inside, she ached with the feel of it, but the cause...the why evaded her. The potential threat on the ice was forgotten, Logan, was forgotten, as her face whipped around, mind searching in time with her frantic eyes. The connection for that second was so strong, and had she known it was coming she probably could have tracked it. As it was, she was just searching...for what she didn't know.

Fingers threaded into her hair on one side of her head, rubbing into her temple as though it would make the picture within her mind more clear. Her posture was tense, muscles rigid, but she stayed where she was. If she thought moving would help, she would have. As powerful as her mind was, she still couldn't make it identify anything. A destination, a source, a reason...

Someone had called out to her, and not in a casual sense. It was like her mind was shielding her from the thing that she was trying to find.

Logan was having one of those “guy” moments—oblivious to certain things while his attention was on something specific. In a very off-based comparison, the situation with Fox, X-23, and Deadpool was like a really amazing football game, while Jean had become the wife nagging at him to fix the drip in the kitchen sink. Football was far more interesting (or in Logan’s case needed to be watched for other reasons than entertainment), so everything else was only dignified with a brief head nod. He hadn’t expected Fox to follow him, and she only caught his notice on her for a brief moment before he witnessed her turning around and sliding back to which she came. But he noticed the shift in her—her eyes, maybe, or the way she carried herself—he couldn’t tell what triggered his notice. He just knew something… flicked on… and off at the same time. Of course, out of all things, Logan was aware of Jean’s proximity, and the kiss which he didn’t return. If he realized, specifically, what was going on, who knew what he would have done in return, but the “guy” moment had taken him over.

He finally turned back toward the red head as she moved away, trying to get Logan to follow her. Logan was a very black and white type of person, as most knew. He was either one extreme or the other. He had his shades of gray, but he couldn’t have “fun” knowing a Marauder, a miniature feral, and an Assassin were in the middle of the skating rink. It was like the makings of an over used joke introduction: ‘So a Marauder, a feral, and an Assasssin walked into a bar…’ He felt bad, guilty or maybe even ashamed, that he couldn’t bring himself to actually skate around like Jean was trying to do. She had the capabilities of mentally pushing herself out of harm’s way—like finding something good to think about while the world was getting ready to end. Wolverine actually envied her for being able to do as such. In Logan’s black and white way of thinking, he couldn’t just up and forget about things and try to have a decent time when the possibility of a threat was so… immediate. Sure he could try to “forget” that humans would act up, but that wasn’t happening right now. He was torn, mentally struggling in what he should do. He was here to enjoy time with Jean, right? He wasn’t here to worry about… Fox.

Damnit.

He lowered his head and rubbed his brow. His damn conscious was getting to him. If someone was in need, one was supposed to help. If someone looked lost, one was supposed to offer support. When in the hell did Logan turn into some junkie super-hero and had morals and ethics to live by? He didn’t, really. Not when it came to adults he had no connection to. But this was Silver Fox who looked visibly out of it. Or at least did.

"No, this was a great idea. I was really excited. It isn't us, Logan. It's our responsibilities."

Responsibility, huh? Logan looked up and frowned. He guessed he was relieved he wasn’t tainted by super-hero morals, but responsibilities to what? Logan knew the answer the moment he asked the question. He had responsibilities to those he cared for, and to a lesser extent, to himself. Sometimes being a black and white person led to a heavy dose of passion, and… Logan was very passionate about things. Beer, for one. His motorcycle, for two. And the most important one out of them all—she screamed.

Logan’s reflexes shot a warning at him. He was seconds away from exposing his claws the moment he heard the first breath of Jean’s scream. What he didn’t expect was the mental lash back. While he wasn’t getting the shock of pain or surprise or whatever the reason Jean had screamed out, he received a pulse of disorientation from the mental link. Even if Jean didn’t fall, Logan nearly did once the “pulse” hit him. He managed to counter his balance and lean forward, hands resting on his knees. The ice was moving around him like he was on a child-like see-saw. He blinked several times to orient himself, glancing up to Jean to make sure she was half-way alright.

He didn’t say a word as he moved to stand up straight. He only stared, jaw clenched and muscles tense. He cast a quick glance toward the trio, but his “guy” moment was now centered on the scoring touchdown Jean while the nagging wife became the trio of doom. So the question was: was everything happening at this skating rink a coincidence?

...

Coincidences my ass. Perfect words.

Before the breaking change that occurred in chasing after Logan and finding him with another, Fox had been stunned and slightly warmed by Laura calling her 'Mom'. Fox wouldn't know that another voice had been superimposed over hers, but it didn't matter. It was left behind along with the strange man's ramblings. The moment was over and she'd gone after Logan, gathering up natural pride and stubbornness to encourage herself. It was a mistake. She needed to know, had to find out eventually, but in the long run...many people, if not the world at large, would come to wish she had stayed away.

Most certainly, the unassuming skaters at the Rockefeller Center Ice-Skating Rink would wish she'd stayed lost and ignorant.

Whatever path people would wish for, the damage was done and a 'new' Fox replaced the last one. Logan's Fox, if you'd call her that, was buried away, lost once more. This Fox was similar to the original one in that she either did not remember or did not believe in whatever romantic era that Logan did. It was a false, a figment, a manipulation of memory. However, just like the one before her, this Fox's memories had a cut off. This Fox was borne of memories surrounding time as an agent, a prisoner tortured and experimented on. It was a harsh and dark period and this Fox was the product. Needless to say...she was a tad off-kilter. This was who Fox would be if she had known nothing but the cruel hand of Weapon X...more or less. But now she had no handlers, there was no Weapon X, no scientists to report to or be tortured by. She seemed to be...free? Really?

The beast now had..no leash...

The change was evident to both of the people she had returned to, but neither seemed to be bothered. Excellent, questions or wariness wouldn't get them anywhere. She wanted to do something, had a plan in mind. Including Laura and Deadpool rather than subjecting them to whatever idea had popped into her mind was a freak occurrence. A whim.

"I like where your crazed eyes are straying. You know, there's this place downtown--"

“Before you answer just know that either decision will result in her gaining your skates. Whether or not your feet are still attached to them when she does is the real question.”

The change in Laura was nothing of note to Fox as she wouldn't recognize any other tone. The previous Fox would note it, be alarmed even. This Fox didn't care. All she knew or noted was that Laura was agreeing to play the game. Fortunate.

Expectant silver blues shifted to Deadpool. Had he said something about downtown? She could expand the game to downtown, though it'd have to be split into parts. He responded to Laura's 'friendly', and accurate, warning, but it was a lengthy and somewhat confusing response. He wasn't wearing skates - when had he taken them off? - and he was talking about some kinky club - that did sound like fun.. - but Fox had had enough. She cut him off by snatching the skates away.

"So, what sort of fun are we having?"

||Will this even work?||

^Didn't I shut you up earlier? This will work perfectly. My plans /always/ work.^

||Yes, but they are also very unnecessary. If you are so bored, go with that man to the club downtown.||

^No, this comes first. I hate oblivious people. Don't they know what's really happening in the world? What their government is really up to?^

There was no reasoning with this one. The mystery internal voice went silent.

Victorious again, Fox smiled at the pair before her. "Did you know? Artificial rinks, especially, outside ones..aren't as thick as they appear. Most of the time, there is only 1.5 inches or less of actual frozen water. Everything else is piping over a layer of concrete or sand. They used sand here." Fox gripped the skates. "So you see...this ice isn't very thick at all. Not very hard either." Obviously, this Fox was far more in tune with the modern world. She knew all of this because she'd done something similar in the past.

"With enough concentrated force...this ice could break. I wonder if these people know that." The woman seemed to consider the thought, ponder over it even. In a low and serious tone, she said, "It's too peaceful here. Too fake...I don't like it." Pause. "The pretenders must be exposed." That was as much motive as either Laura or Deadpool would get, not that they'd asked for one.

Now, any ordinary person with anything less than official equipment or machinery would not be able to accomplish much more than hurting themselves in trying to break this ice. However, Silver Fox was no ordinary person. She wasn't even an ordinary mutant. She had the strength and knowledge required to damage the ice. And with those sharp metal skates...and a few other items, breaking this ice would be easy. For those that failed to get away, all that would be left to support them were sand and piping. Ice piping and unfiltered, probably gravely sand. There'd be injuries - cuts, bruises, broken bones even.

And the peace would be broken. Tut, tut - she had to include the other players though! Smile. "How good is your aim?" she asked Deadpool. "I need you to throw this skate high into the air, but still low enough to possibly hurt people." Next, the dark-haired plotter turned to Laura. "And I'd need you to time your throw with his, but aim directly below where his skate goes. Make sure you throw it /very/ hard." It was very fortunate that the doe-woman before her had stupidly left very dangerous items on their person.

Dangerous items like explosives and a pair of guns that hadn't been removed.

Reaching into places unknown, Fox planted explosives in Wade's proffered skates and held one out to Laura and the other to Deadpool. If they refused, Fox would not be very happy, but she'd gladly do it all herself too. God help them if they took it into their heads to hinder her wishes. "I'll take care of everything else. I'd advise you both to make yourselves scarce or blend in with the crowd after this.." Oh, idea! "Or we can visit the club you wanted to go to." And blow it up.

The basic plan was to break the ice and blow the rink. The skate that is to blow midair is a distraction, a precaution in case some unsavory authority types are watching /and/ it's to make people scatter away from the spot that Laura is to hit. The concentrated blast will likely harm civilians, but is really meant to just expose the piping below the ice. Fox will then merrily fire away at the piping, maybe even lob an explosive, or both, and blow those. It will create a large explosion and then it's 'mission accomplished' - disturbed peace. There are no personal targets, for Fox, she really just wants to disrupt the peaceful and happy atmosphere because, in her present mental state, it makes her sick to her stomach.

"That sounds painful. I like it. Smaaaaaall problem. They're not on my feet…”

“Details.” Came the low whispered tone of the girl who’s voice would be drowned out by the continuous rambling of their annoying companion. At the moment Laura could be concerned less with the inaccuracy of her threat while something inside of her was begging to claw its way out. A lifetime spent having her mind and body manipulated by others would still continue as her mind was just violated. Memories taken away in a mental fog different from the amnesia her friend Fox was suffering from. Someone or something had played around with her head. While she was unaware of who or what was the cause, something inside her did not enjoy the experience. All the memories that had been blocked were surely bad ones that she would’ve wished to never remember again. Still there were hers to have and forget as she pleased. As always Laura only saw one way of relieving her frustration and that was cutting someone or something. Not even her own body was safe from her infliction of pain. But why would she cut into her own flesh when there was a nice scratching post standing right before her wrapped in all red. A color she was sure to decorate the area with as she slowly began to feel the tip of her claws peek through the layer of her skin. Lucky for Wade something else distracted her in the distance.

Keen senses picked up the cry of a woman. Not the biggest sign of alarm but in this crowd of joyous people it grabbed the girl’s attention. Spinning her head into the direction of the cry she found Logan and his companion in her sight. However the woman’s cry became less important as she watched Logan fall to his knees. There seemed to be no real danger but the sight of Logan’s fall was enough to cause Laura some small joy. As a smile crossed her face her claws retracted back into place. She still felt eerie about her surrounding area but felt her need to take it out on something diminish. Well at least slightly for the moment. When he turned in their direction she couldn’t help but wave to him before looking back into Fox’s eyes as she went through a mental battle of her own. It was obvious something was wrong before Fox began to give the two of them a lesson on the workings of ice rinks. A random fact to know and at the moment she saw no point in it. Although her words rung clear with truth. There was something very wrong with this place. Not only had she experienced it first hand but looking around she could tell something was very wrong here. Not a single person seemed to be concerned or fazed by the scenes around them. A strange man in red sliding across the ice, a young girl screaming as if her head was ripping apart, none of it caused any sort of alarm with the people who continued to skate obliviously.

"It's too peaceful here. Too fake...I don't like it."

“Agreed. But where does the fun come in?" It would come in the form of destruction and chaos. Something that would only seem like fun to someone uncaring of those that were hurt by the carnage such a plan would cause. And while she was in complete agreement that this placed should be demolished, she was not looking to do so at the cost of those that could be hurt around her. Looking from one face to the other she knew that she had hurt many people in her past. Countless faces cut down for the simple reason of being in her way. But amongst those faces she saw families together. Children playing with one another with the happiest of smiles on their innocent faces. An innocence she did not possess or wished to see harmed. She would be able to escape the crumbling ice…what about those who couldn’t? Looking back to Logan she was overwhelmed with the desire of seeing him buried here. But even though it would give her great pleasure she wouldn’t allow it to come at the cost of those around her. “No.” Laura wanted to protect Fox and stand at her side. This wasn’t the Fox she knew or even the confused woman suffering from amnesia. She was someone else looking to hurt too many people and she was not going to allow it to happen. This time her claws popped out of her skin without hesitation as she cut the laces of both skates held in Fox’s hand and grabbed them before they could touch the ice. With the explosive loaded footwear in hand she skated away from both in her company. Making a mad dash towards the front of the rink. Laura wanted this place to be broken but she would use her own method with the use of Fox’s toys. Too many innocent people had been hurt by her hand. She was not looking to add more to that list.

Making her way towards the golden statue standing at the head of the rink, she launched both skates with all her strength at the head of the statue. Her aim was perfection and the impact explosion would surely behead the statue but without harming those standing on the ice. Knocking the destruction backwards into the fountain around it and away from them. She was no hero but she was not looking to continue seeing the blood of innocent people on her hands. Hopefully this would free the people of their fog and force them all to leave this eerie place.

Silva'. Fox. Silva' Fox, Psycho Science Rox. What was this lovely lady doing going on about how Ice Rinks worked? Why it almost sounded like she wanted to bust the fragile layer of ice that made this wonderful faux ice world go 'round. To shatter the dreams and daydreams of young and old alike for all time. A blight on their world and endless suffering for ALL MANKIND.

"Yeah, why not?" Wade's hands rose up before him, held out to either side palms up. Nothing like a detached shrug of a man that wasn't about to save the world from the CRAZY LADY (Neon sign, buzzh, buzzh, buzzh--coocoo, coocoo, coocoo) that obviously had one too many bad experiences with Icecapades. Really, who hadn't?

"With enough concentrated force...this ice could break. I wonder if these people know that."

Deadpool leaned out and slowly swept his upper body along one half of the rink's perimeter as though scouting a far off land he'd scarcely dreamed of or seen before. "These people don't even know McDonalds makes them fat," he finally replied, straightening up with one eye wider then the other. What curious little questions the woman had.

"The pretenders must be exposed."

"Pretenders?" That damn man with the camera! He was here wasn't he? Hiding amongst the crowds. Waiting. His high pitched voice crying softly 'Cut,' 'Cut,' 'Cut.' Yes... Wade would cut. Cut the man into tiny little pieces and show them on film before a live studio audience.

Fox's voice brought him back to "reality"--but wasn't reality all relatively really?--at the question of his aim. Wade looked at the skate, looked up at Fox, looked back at the skate, and back up at Fox. "You mean a distraction?" Was he missing something there? She was talking to DEADPOOL. You know, crazy and fun Master of Death? Well, maybe Death was his master, but they could discuss who wore the pants in their relationship--did Death wear pants? Instant win!--later. "I once knocked a squirrel's nuts at a thousand yards with a peashooter. On a Thursday. I got aim."

Reaching out toward the skates, Wade was happy to go along with this completely random and gratuitous form of violance. "There aren't any pretenders at the cl--"

"No."

Wait. No? No what? No they shouldn't go to the club? No they shouldn't blow up the ice rink? No they shouldn't kill people randomly, senslessly, needlessly, without cause, purpose, rhyme, or reason? No, she felt sick? No, playing Marco Polo with "JEAN" and "GREY" wasn't a sound idea, but Wolverine and Jean looked pretty psyched about it? No Wade hadn't shot the nuts off a squirrel? He was pretty sure he had.

Then came the claws, there went the skates, and, "OFF WITH HIS HEAD." Again, the Black and Red mercenary shrugged. Well it'd seemed appropriate. Fox wanted to blow open a rabbit hole. Obviously the woman had gone down a few. Then there was the Mad Hatter--guess who?--and the self absorbed feline--got that fine, silky red hair. Then there was the queen, little Miss Muffet deciding 'No' to something. So let's dispense with the pleasantries and get right down to business. "RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!" Wade began dancing in place, hands drawn up to his mask fearful that the END WAS NIGH OH NOES.

Scott and Jean had a connection that was forged over time and bonded by true love as Jean’s telepathic powers allowed their minds to be connected in the same way their hearts were. In it’s peak, it was an unbreakable bond, but time and experiences had taken their toll as they each suffered the temporary interruptions of death and eyes wandering through lust for others. It was supposed to be dead and buried along with Scott following his final goodbye and departure with death, but this version of Scott had inherited the same body and the same brain and whilst his own mind was trying to rewire it to rehabilitate the conflicting sets of memories and skills, the old neural pathways were still there.

Scott staggered back as he fell into the ceramic tiling that lined the restroom, having been caught completely unaware by the sheer magnitude of the experience as for just a moment, the connection was open again. Scott – this Scott – had never felt anything like it before as it was like a hundred flashbulbs went off in his head at once and a new world expanded in front of him. Touching Grey’s mind, even for a fraction of a second, held a bundle of fear and pleasure that overwhelmed the Prelate and took him off his balance. Telepathy he had experienced before, but never on this scale and it was usually something he had shielded himself from as in the pens it was a necessity as the disembodied ‘Brain Trust’ kept the unprotected inhabitants mentally numbed and docile.

Gathering his composure, he lurched forward to clasp either side of a hand basin and the mirror positioned on the wall above it gave him the first proper look at what had become of him. The face that looked back at him was familiar, but not his own as scars lined up in different places and the one thick one that robbed him of the sight in one eye was red, bloody and all too fresh but notably wasn’t one of three. A thick trickle of blood was also running freely from his right nostril as well, but with a wipe from the back of his hand he cleaned it away momentarily, but it coincided with another man feeling the call of nature and disturbing the Cyclops’s solitude.

There was an unwritten rule amongst the male persuasion, that unlike women who visited the restroom in packs, it was a very solitary experience with almost no conversation being spoken from one to another. The other patron would have been happy to keep to this, had he not caught a sight of Summer’s torn face in the mirror and gasped. ”Oh shiii.. sorry man” He tried to apologise, stepping backwards with arms raised, but with a snap of the head Scott brought a red eye to bare. A burst of kinetic energy cut the apogee short as the human was flung into the wall with a loud and echoing thump.

As his victim slumped down to the ground, Scott cursed himself for an overreaction. There was no need to use his powers like that but he knew the reason: It was emotion. He’d allowed the images of his predecessors’ life and love with Grey to sway him from the cause and there was no place for emotion in his life. There was duty and beyond that… well what else mattered? Hauling the unconscious body into one of the stalls and locking the door to trap it inside and out of harms way until much later, he made a pledge that he would keep that connection locked and never seek to open it again as the emotion it held was of no good to anyone and with any luck, once he found Sinister, he could purge that any all the other lingering memories that could spring up to haunt him from the second-hand brain.

The bleeding nostril had slowed to barely a trickle as the mutant gave it one more cautionary wipe before returning the black helmet to its place atop his head again, before leaving the restroom behind.

(( So I read X-23's post as having not activated the explosives. If it isn't so, let me know and I'll edit. Also, let me know if it was too far with the mind skimming and I can edit. ))

Perhaps later, when her powerful mind had let her catch up to the situation would she remember Logan's absence in the first few moments of the situation. Of course, by then, it would be a moot point. This thing with Logan was so new, so fresh...and she had so many other things on her mind distracting her that she wasn't able to properly pick it apart like every other woman. She saw Logan tense out of the corner of her eye and even though the mental anguish seemed to be over, she slapped the door closed between her and Logan nice and tight. Her expression melted momentarily apologetic before she was frantically scanning, both mentally and physically. Everything seemed to be happening so quickly. She saw a man leaving the bathroom, and something akin to cold dread gripped her. But before she could really seek him out further, she saw a flash in the corner of her peripherals where she was still trying to keep track of the trio.

The small one, the child was skating purposefully away from the other two. With a sense of anguish that she couldn't even really identify she turned away from the man, only a glimpse seen anyway and gave her attention completely onto the rink. Green eyes that had dimmed to a sober olive regarded the people who were currently making her life difficult. With a practiced air she scanned their minds. She didn't probe them, just skimmed over the surface and most recent thoughts. The girl was thinking about an explosion centering around the skates. Fox, the same thing only the explosion had a different flavor. The man...she wasn't even going to go there. Her body tensed and she felt her blood start to sizzle as the disappointment and anger took hold. She was burning from the inside out. Angry at them for taking away the potential in this day. Angry at the world for not cooperating even a little. Angry at herself for her dedication, and always trying to help when it never really seems to change anything.

Eyes that held a bit of regret submerged in all the anger turned towards Logan. "Skates...explosives...statue." And that was all the time she was willing to spare for an explanation before she turned away already, trying to in some way fix this. Quickly, she reached out and started touching mind's, flipping them like light switches. One minute everyone was having fun and loving the skating rink. The next, they were tired or cold, wanting to leave. One, two, three, four, seven, ten, thirteen. As quickly as she could she began to make everyone head for the entrance, as far away from the statue as possible. Simultaneously (a skill that wouldn't have come so easy before her power boost), she snatched the skates off of the statue and hoisted them high into the air roughly a hundred feet, surrounding them with tightly packed molecules of protection. Her lips formed a grim line as she worked. She found that her body was fully leaning against the railing of the skating rink. If she could, she would have taken off her skates as they seemed more a hindrance than an asset.

Her fingers gripped the railing even as her eyes were focused on the skates, mind tumbling through everyone else's at the rink. Once she got everything relatively under control, she was so zapping that wicked woman with the wild hair. Let her sleep off her evil intentions.

There might have been a rehash of words and a flip of personalities if Logan actually found the moment to talk: ‘No need to apologize.’ He saw Jean’s look, but didn’t bother to appear any less tense. As Jean began to glance around, he kept glancing toward her eyes and face the best he could, trying to follow her line of sight. He saw her pause momentarily, catching a glimpse of a figure in black. While Jean might not have noticed it, Logan’s eyesight was enhanced, and he saw perfectly the… oddness of the situation. Who in the hell would go into the bathroom without taking a motorcycle helmet off? He watched the man disappear in the crowd, losing sight of him, and throwing the situation as to be yet another quirk of less-than-normal New York City citizens. He let a few seconds lapse before taking a quick sniff. There was an acrid stench of sweat and body odor coming from around him; nothing that really set him—wait. Logan took another sniff, trying to catch something that smelled similar, aside from Jean and the trio. He could have sworn it smelled like… Nah. No point in dwelling on it and the scent was too vague to determine.

"Skates...explosives...statue."

Logan sighed. “Go figure.” It was funny how working years with the same person could trigger unconscious roles. Neither Logan nor Jean had to say anything to the other. To Logan, what was going to be done was just, plainly, what they had done their entire lives as X-Men. Jean was to stop the immediate threat while Logan went to kick the asses of those who caused the threat. Not even bothering to locate where the trio was anymore, Logan spun on his skates and immediately went skating toward Silver Fox, using her scent as a guide through the congestion while gaining speed. Of course, he did the one thing any normal civilian shouldn’t do, but considering how… well… there was a bomb… it seemed to be the right thing to do get their asses out of harm’s way. He was moments away from screaming bomb until he realized people were leaving from their own accord. Whatever.

With enough momentum and distance to find himself not in the congestion of leaving folks, he calculated the proximity of Fox and Deadpool. Even if Deadpool was dancing around like an idiot, neither was wearing skates, which meant he had maneuverability on his side. He went with the immediate option. First, he built up enough speed where he didn’t need to actually “skate” anymore, only glide. Secondly, he fell. On purpose. And aimed his trajectory to slam right into Fox’s legs. How the mighty fall. In the process, if he hit, he kept going, extending his claws to dig into the ice to stop his movement. With just enough traction, he managed to get back up on his skates, once more taking off forward toward Fox as he gave a small leap. He was in mid-air, aiming to slam down upon her to knock her out. He made sure to sheath his claws by the time he made contact with whatever he happened to land on. He didn’t want to kill her—he couldn’t in more ways than one. He just needed her to stop.

Of course, there was also a secondary plan in motion swirling within his head. He was buying time for Jean to deal with the bomb. If he could draw enough attention, she was liable to come around and knock the hell out of all three them with a nice little telepathic bolt. If Logan could go down with one little mind bolt to the head, Fox and Deadpool could too. And X-23, wherever she was in this mess.

Laura's actions produced a drawn out silence from Fox. There was no break, no crack, no indication that a severe change was to come about. The woman was simply standing there. However, she wasn't smiling. The evidently mad woman wasn't angry, or didn't appear so at least. The woman did have the slightest of frowns upon her perfect honey features. Off-kilter blues watched her on-the-fly plan veer off-course due to one of her potential co-conspirators deciding to play hero. Deadpool did not seem interested in following the same course. He didn't react badly either. Like her, he watched Laura run off with the explosives and launch it at the statue - away from everyone.

Fox found herself...annoyed. Her other half was amused. ^Don't mock me.^

||I did not say anything.||

^You never wanted this anyway; you're amused, at the very least.^ There was no denial from her other side and the woman almost, /almost/ pouted. So the other thought that she was thwarted did she? Hn.

"RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!" Okay, so Deadpool was willing to stand there, /at first/. Was this his way of stirring up things? There was a definite response, several people looking around worriedly. Those further away figured that the man who'd taken such a tumble earlier was playing around. There were many screwballs in the world; they likely figured that the man was nuts and they simply refused to let it ruin their fun, perfect, /peaceful/ day.

It...annoyed her.

Then something happened. Something bad. The tossed explosives that Fox was planning to blow anyway were frozen in the air and people started leaving. Not running away in fear or panic or /awareness/, but calmly walking away. They held their companions closer, pulled their coats on tighter - like they were freezing. Figures were hunched and slow, as if tired.

That...annoyed her too.

Fox had thought to leave peaceably (not really), but her other side's amusement, Laura's actions, and now this sham of a calm processional exit spurred her to make a point. So everyone wanted to thwart her today did they? Fox-like orbs became slits of ice. Fine.

||This is quite unnecessary; no one deserves this.||

^Yeah, well tell that to the collective and see how that works out for you. Should I serve you some flashbacks and show you just how badly these people need to wake up?^ Silence reigned and Fox had just enough time to relish it before she became aware of mal-intent headed her way. A scent oh-so-familiar that always, /always/ brought bad things.

Wolverine.

But he wouldn't be confronting the same Fox he'd walked away from earlier. Not that there was any need to split hairs. All the other man needed to know was that the peaceful Fox he'd left behind had become violent. Whatever the reasoning or motive, she had to be stopped.

Unfortunately, Fox was currently uninterested in being stopped. The attempt at knocking her off of her feet was success, as Fox had expected a different kind of approach from Wolverine. Still, Fox recovered rather gracefully for someone who'd been essentially tripped up. Making sure to just fall on her ass, instead of her back, Fox swung her to the side. It made her spin and she got to her feet in one swift move - looked like a breakdance move.

Fox was out of the way when Logan attempted to descend upon her, a miss of mere precious seconds. Standing there, Fox did not retaliate immediately. Not directly. The woman threw a bomb, not meant for major explosions, at the ice, a location some distance from her of course.

It blew upon contact, ice cracking badly, but not blowing chunks at all.

For her part, Fox had very well figured what type of mutant was holding her up. Sort of. That damn redhead - whoever she was - that had upset that figment presently holed up in her head. She was running the puppet show with the human freaks here and it was...irritating. Damn spooks. Despite her not happy mood, Fox faced Logan with a smile of sorts. It was out of place and clearly not a smile indicating happiness or even smugness. It was just a strange little smile.

||Don't be foolish!|| Actual concern?

^Try and stop me then!^ A challenge...to herself? The struggle didn't stop Fox from producing a few micro-explosive that should have been removed from the amnesiac's body. But why would Zero, who happened to be wandering the city in search of her..or Gambit..whatever came first, find the need for a strip search? It was the only way that he'd have found everything on her. Or nearly everything. Cocking her head, Fox said, "You want to play?" They wanted to play hero? Ignorant, but determined heroes?

Then she'd give these fools something to save.

"Then let's play."

And then she 'skated' away.

Skates or none, anybody could slide/glide across ice and not bust their ass if they had good balance. She'd probably get caught, Logan had skates after all, but she didn't care. All she needed was a few seconds, any time at all that Logan would have to spend chasing his mentally-unbalanced ex-love.

'Skating' along, Fox merrily denoted the explosives that Jean was holding at a nice distance in the air. The explosion rocked nothing more than the telekinetic bubble that they had been trapped in. But was that bubble sound proof? Next, she aimed her gun at the ice, yeah, the ice. Remember that cracked ice? She wanted to make it worse. Hopefully, either the explosion or the gunshots or both (preferably both) would get something going on in the minds of the idiot humans that didn't even know they were being manipulated.

Greater good?

That is, supposing Jean didn't stop it all.

The micro-explosives withdrawn moments ago, so tiny, were tossed out...over the cracked ice. It didn't really matter where they went as long as the little buggers fell through the cracks. She could set those off whenever she wanted. She was thinking - what other toys were left. She already knew that she had less ammunition on her than normal; much of it was missing. As it was, she had no bombs now that she'd tossed the micro ones. Aside from this gun, there were only two others on her. She had - two? - very slim knives on her. Anything else on her was useless. Gun ammunition...great, she couldn't even tell. /Damn/ that oblivious moron.

||I /will/ stop you.||

Fox scoffed, but out loud. Oops. "You don't have the support to overrule me. You can't use the figment and the others are worse than me. You can't reach 'her' and we're not telepathic, so you can't beg the redhead for help," Fox told..herself quietly, but menacingly. "You're screwed."

||This isn't over.||

"Of course not," an agreement on two levels really - the other was too stubborn to quit and she wasn't done either, "the show has just begun." Would it be a quick show? She'd yet to see the fruits of her labors and--damn that man! Wolverine was a serious problem. He was a pain on those damn skates and she was tired of trying to evade him or rolling with his strikes. He'd get in a nasty hit at some point, never mind that redhead jumping in - and she just knew her other half lie in wait to capitalize. She could be overruled, or 'kicked out', if physically weakened.

In the mean time, Fox wondered where her other playmate had run off to. Was he to watch the show or join the cast? And Laura? Would she stand against Fox or go after dead old dad? Not that Fox knew of that particular connection of sorts...

{If you plan on exited Scott with the crowd, let me know and I’ll make the edit}

Once the skates left her hands the graceful feral skater glided away. The momentum of her movement gave her a nice backwards glide away from the potential explosion. Crouching down she covered her head waiting for the big BOOM that was to follow next. Her next move would be played after the first was detonated. Only there was no big BOOM. Peaking through her arms she saw that the statue before her was still intact. Unscratched by the bomb laced skates. Coming back to a standing position she stopped herself in place to find out what trickery had occurred. Cutting her brown eyes a couple feet higher she watched as the skates she had thrown were now hovering in the air by some unknown force. Turning back to where the others were and she witnessed something even more confusing as all people among the rink began to make their departure. After all that had happened in the last few minutes it made no sense that her actions were enough to make them all leave. Didn’t take her long before she pulled two and two together to form the true conclusion. “Reds.” Addressing the redheaded Jean Grey who she had already bared witness to once before at the headquarters of Weapon-X. Scanning the crowd as they exited she caught sight of the woman gripping the side of the railing looking as if she was dealing with one hell of a headache. Clearly she was the one causing this mental manipulation that persuaded the other skaters to leave as well as hold the dangerous skate at a safe distance from the crowd. While not the method she had been able to exercise it still met the same outcome she wished for. The explosives weren’t endangering anyone and the people were now free from the odd influence of the rink. So what was to happen next?

As the ice cleared there were only six people, including herself, still standing in place. An unknown man standing furthest away, the redhead telepath still pushing the people as far from the ice as she could, Silver Fox and Deadpool still where she left them and…him. Logan was making a mad dash towards Silver Fox and by the look of his face it didn’t seem as if he was looking to just talk. But who’s side would she take? It was clear that one side of the field lied the bad guys while the others were clearly the heroes. Two against two, with both Laura and the mystery gentleman undecided as of yet. Laura had nothing but good intentions when she took away Fox’s toys and went to behead the statue. But like any loyal feral she was not about to turn her back on her friend. Even though at the moment she was unsure of whether or not her friend even still existed within that unstable mind of hers. Loyalty wouldn’t allow her to stand by and let anyone hurt Fox no matter what state of mind she was in. All Laura could do was hope Fox wouldn’t turn on her in the midst of her psychotic break. Given her size and skill on her skates made for much speed as she dashed back towards the friend she previous parted from. Of course she was too far away to stop Logan’s first strike as he knocked Fox on her tail. Seeing him come around for a second assault made the urgency of her speed even greater. Pushing her legs harder against the ice with her hair flying behind her she blazed towards them. Without hesitation her mind went into combat mode.

Her team was Silver Fox and Deadpool against Logan and Jean. No time to determine the outside man’s agenda but she wouldn’t leave him ignored for long. Two objectives were at the front of her mind. Protect Fox and take out the most dangerous opponent. And in this case Logan was the least of her problems. Skating beside Deadpool she tagged his side as she moved pass to get his attention, “Take her out!” Her arm stretched out to point towards the redhead telepath. Looking over her shoulder she assured she had his attention before moving on. Jean was the most dangerous opponent. Her display of power made that very clear. DP could try his best to stop her or at least distract her long enough for Laura and Fox to get to a safe distance. That distance being as far away from Logan as possible. But her predecessor made one very fatal battleground flaw…never drop your weapon no matter what. As Logan’s claws retracted, Laura’s shot out from her hands as her speed brought her beneath Logan when he tried to make contact with Fox. Only he made contact with the unlucky end of her adamantium talons, using his fall against him he would slam down into them. Coming in leaning backwards under him she aimed her right set of claws for his heart while her left set punctured his left lung. “Don’t touch her!” She growled as she pushed herself away from him before he could recover. Again using her speed to put even more distance between them. She moved on the outer side of Fox in her blind spot, watching Logan out one eye and Fox out the other. Unaware of what the woman was planning she would stay out of her sight for the moment. Simply skating around her till she came to a complete stop on the ice. Sliding from the back she came to Fox’s front with her claws now aimed at the other woman.

“You’re not Fox.” That much was made very clear by the woman’s actions. “But until the real one surfaces…” Turning away she held her claws to her side, “…I am at your side.” As much as she wished she could dig for the real Silver Fox out as her friend had done for Laura moments ago, there was no time. This was a fight and her attention needed to stay on her foes. Bracing herself she looked much like the protective cat guarding their master. She would ensure Fox’s safety as well as any innocent life that may fall onto this folly. And from her count there wasn’t an innocent one among them. Except maybe the unknown man. But from the looks of him he didn’t look one bit innocent of all crimes. And while Jean and Logan were the heroes, the enemy of my friend is my enemy.

"What makes bomb fly?" Wade mused aloud as meek and humble as a child staring at the wide, open, blue sky above. The whites of his eyes widened as they watched all the fun float up, up, and away. Just like Superman, the prick. Yeah, hey there, nice to meet you, now I've saved your sorry ass fuck off! Better things to do. What did the bomb want to do? Was there something bigger and more impressive to blow up?

Downtrodden eyes blinked and went blank--er than usual--as Logan went slip sliding by and knocked Fox over for a little romantic treat on the ice. Deadpool's right brow fell over his eye as he looked at the spot Fox had occupied before all the excitement had begun. "Seriously, bub, stealin' a man's girl ain't cool." Two fully automatic happy dispensers magically appeared in his hands as he threw his arms out after the pair. Time to get... Happy.

Before Wade tried punching holes in Mister Wonder Sauce, however, Laura breezed through and gave him a pat. "Take her out!"

"The hell--? I WASN'T READY." No one had told him Crazy Bitch was It. How was he suppose to hide from It if he didn't know she was It and now he was It? It was unfair, under handed, and-- Wait. "Take her out?" Deadpool managed to recall what she'd said before laying the cheat down. "But she's already on a date. A date with a Badg-- Oh, good call."

Cartwheels of happy dispensers, Wade holstered the guns at his sides again before spinning around on the ice... again, and again, and again. Putting his foot down the Merc put Physics in its place and came to a stop facing Jean's direction. Arms out to either side innocently, palms up, he smiled behind the mask. Playtime.

One second there Wade Danger Wilson stood and the next there he stood again, only a few feet closer. Like... almost on top of Jean Grey to her left. "Did you know, I'm every bit as attractive as Logan, but I actually possess a sense of humor? We're both trained killers too. Don't tell me that's a turn off, because we both know that'd be a lie," Deadpool waged a finger between them. What? Kill her? Shoot her? Whatever for? Wade would dazzle her with his brilliance and wit and debonair. Ah, French. Nice place, nice people. He didn't know what people meant by French people having attitudes. Hell, Wade had an attitude. Sacre bleu too many times and he'd shove you in a dumpster. Everyone got along when they had that understanding.

(( Sorry. Gonna be gone in the next few hours till Monday so I've gotta post now. ))

She barely even registered when Logan went skating off in pursuit. He was one person that, while she kept a small part of her attention focused on him just in case, she knew she didn't have to babysit him. Almost there, nearly done. Once everyone was off the ice she wouldn't have to hold back in fear of hurting someone. Collateral damage to the rink would be unfortunate, but expected. Jean flinched when a tiny burst brought her attention back to the melee happening in front of her. Those green eyes were affixed on them, sure, but her mind was elsewhere. She analyzed the situation in a millisecond. There weren't any bystanders in that area that would be harmed from this new development. It wasn't a threat, so it was pushed to another portion of her mind. Then, the moment that she had been waiting for. The bomb detonated. She could feel the pressure as tentacles of pure force rocked the cell that she had created for it. But she was stronger than the explosion, and the fact that the bubble she had made only had a limited supply of air, any fire that was produced burned itself out in moments.

Soon, all she was holding was a chunk of would-be skates. Quickly, the charred debris zoomed to a patch of cement and Jean released her hold on them. All this while she was coaxing people off the ice. Of course, the sounds had been muffled, but the woman was making more and more audible conflict. Some of the people started to get the hint that something was amiss. The remaining people enthusiastically exited the ice, panic etching their faces. The suggestion Jean had planted in everyone else's mind was so strong...the impulse to have nothing to do with the ice rink, they didn't even spare a glance back. Now, the immediate threats. The woman was talking to herself. Of course, when it reached Jean's ears it was nothing more than a mumble. But at least it was something to file back into her mind for reference. The little one, no more than a child skated up to the woman, obviously trying to help her. Jean frowned, her instinct to protect already putting that one in a separate compartment than the two other adults.

Brow furrowed as the same one that she was having these maternal urges toward reached a pale arm out toward her and told the other to 'take her out.' That was nice. It didn't change much in her mind, a smart kid was a kid just the same. Then, she went off in pursuit of Logan. Eyes took in the scene as it unfolded. The child had claws, just like Logan's. What in the hell did that mean? Was she part of Weapon X? Did that mean that the other two were as well? That would explain why Logan knew them. She assumed that Logan could take care of himself. She had to. With the man approaching her in a slow but determined manner, his motions every ounce of innocent, she had to be on her guard. The man had guns as well, she had seen them before he decided to come and pursue her. "Did you know, I'm every bit as attractive as Logan, but I actually possess a sense of humor? We're both trained killers too. Don't tell me that's a turn off, because we both know that'd be a lie," Adept at multitasking, his attempt at conversation, whatever the motivation, wasn't going to distract her. She erected a TK shield that surrounded her completely about five feet or so in front and around her. The man hadn't reached it yet, but it was there none the less. He had...teleported? That wasn't good. It meant that her TK shield wouldn't mean anything. Even so, she kept it up. Almost like a security blanket of protection.

While keeping her eyes on Wade, that powerful mind stretched out. First, it sent a bolt aimed at knocking the child out. Strong but not lethal, able to get the job done. What was Jean's strategy? Who knew..as she took out perhaps the weakest one of the group. Before the mind bolt had even hit home, she was already invading the other woman's mind. She didn't bother making it a slow and painless process. She was assessing the situation from behind enemy lines. The woman had already shown herself to be capable of harming others without regard. Silver Fox. The name was plucked from her mind without having to dig too deep. But there was another interesting but hardly unpredictable development. ~Silver Fox. Cease all efforts of chaos this very moment. I want to see your hands in the air away from your body or I will take you out of commission.~ She let the woman feel each movement as she oriented herself inside of the woman's head, letting her know that what she was talking about was very real. She did this when she sensed a great amount of confusion within a person. Sometimes it meant they were torn in their decision process. Sometimes it meant that they had some sort of mental instability or that they were being mind controlled. Regardless of the situation, Fox was a confused person. Sometimes it was an advantage if the threat to a person was brutally shown to them. It helped make the decision to surrender easier. If Fox decided to abide by Jean's rules and put her hands up in the air, ceasing to make any other threatening advances, Jean would effectively "cuff" her, or take possession of the woman's arms, keeping them out and away from her body.

Simultaneously, a slow smile played along her lips for the other man's benefit. Almost as though she were trying to mimic his own innocence. Of course, hers was laced with a certain darkness underneath. For all of his nonchalance, she sensed a grave danger within him. The ones who played innocent were often the worst, despite the fact that he hadn't really done anything substantially bad throughout this entire episode. While the smile appeared, she let her mental ability slide over his mind, and she let him feel it. She didn't know what his powers were, but she couldn't risk him getting the drop on her. "That might be so. But Logan isn't currently standing in front of me with directions to 'Take me out.' So that's automatically a point in his favor. Now. If you so much as think of harming another, I'll turn you into one of those boring CEO types that crunch numbers all day." As if to accentuate her point, she sent a little pulse around the force she had over his mind. If she sensed any sort of change at all, she was going to send a bolt so that where ever he ended up teleporting, he hopefully wouldn't be conscious. Of course, her words spoke of using mental suggestion, but her actions were clearly a bowling strike...all ten pins out. The CEO comment was more pulling off of his actions previous through the entire past that she had seen him. Perfect recall had flashed images of him clowning around at every opportunity. She guessed that he enjoyed the freedom of his life, in the simplest terms.

Having this much in depth work with two separate people, and at the same time no less would have been enough to tax her previously. But maybe Tessa boosting her powers was working to some advantage. Oh, she was feeling the burn, as though she was engaging in a good workout, but she hadn't reached her limit, and she was feeling good and sharp still.

(( Please let me know if any of this is confusing. I might have the BF hop on tonight to see if I need to edit anything. PM this account if so. Thanks! ))

Wade looked at Jean, watching her as she stood there, listening to all the excitement in the background--two could play the multitasking game. "You could, but then I could God-Mod and skip over those entire paragraphs that have to do with you doing anything like that, pop in there, knock you out, and still be home in time for the Golden Girls." And if there was any doubt at all about his ability to do this, he leaned against her telekinetic bubble and gave her the award winning Wade Wilson googly eyes--which you couldn't see because he was wearing a full facial mask.

Turning his head to the side, keeping one eye fixed on Jean, Deadpool shouted, "Wolf-A-Log, mind telling your New Girl who I am while you're busy trying to beat your Old Girl's face in? I could use the support over here. I really don't want to have to put a bullet in her head so she doesn't do any psycho voodoo on me. Wolf Boy? Are you listening to me?" It was so hard to hold a conversation when people were trying to kill one another. Well, actually, it wasn't the least bit difficult for Wade, but everyone else found it so hard to focus sometimes you know? Logan definitely had that problem when he got all Scary-Red-Eyes. Then he was like the Monster from the Infernal Pit of DOOM.

"Really, I don't want to," Deadpool looked back at Jean lazily. "You're cute, I'm handsome, I think we'd be great. And don't think about hitting me up with your scary 'I'll make you think you're a six year old and have Logan braid your hair' either. 'Cause I'm on to you," his index finger stabbed at the shield between them, "you're one of those 'I love the world' types that can't do anything mean and nasty to people unless they do something mean and nasty first. And if you aren't, and you're one of those 'I wish I loved the world' wanna-be's, then taking me out before I do anything mean or nasty would only prove you'll never be a 'I love the world' type. So ya got to ask yourself, am I worth it? I know I am, but do you?"

While Jean pondered this, Wade reached out through the aether of time and let the clocks of the universe resume ticking. Well you didn't think I managed to say all of that in the matter of three seconds between Jean's actions and whoever posts next right? This is one 'Pool that has connections. They usually try to kill me later, but that's cool.

Scott made his way back into the throng that were milling around the Rockefeller Centre and trying to enjoy a pleasant days ice skating after the global dramas of the last few days, but it dawned on him that although his disguise worked perfectly in concealing his identity from those that might have known the identity he’d inherited, the black ensemble made him stand out like a sore thumb from those in chunky knits and colourful gloves. As he looked for a position to hide incognito again, he was aware of the nagging in his mind and were he less prepared for it, would have been taken in by it, but the telepathic field Jean projected was to wide and unfocussed to affect those who knew the signs. The rest of the crowd wasn’t so fortunate and as they milled away, the man who wanted to watch from the shadows stood alone on the sidelines as the five on the ice faced off.

But which side did he choose?

A chunk of the statue exploding – or rather imploding as the debris remained tethered inside what he could only presume to be a telekinetic cordon - and that should have pushed him into action, but as one hand raised to the visor of the helmet he wore by sheer reflex drilled into him by years of training he hesitated from opening it and blasting any of them with a beam from his one good eye as his mind deliberated: Grey was not the one he’d known and his counterpart obviously had a tangled history with her, but he couldn’t get past the fact he downright hated Weapon X. He could go to hell for all he cared and in a fit of pique; Scott lowered his hand and turned his back on the melee to head back down to the parking lot.

The bike was waiting right where he’d left it – the seat still holding the last lingering trace of warmth from where he’d been sat before – but as he mounted it and gave the start a kick with all his weight to start the engine running. As the beast roared noisily into life though the quandary refused to resolve itself as he couldn’t shake the notion that this was the course that would lead him to Sinister. The exit lay in front of him, just a couple of ramps away, but Scott had another destination in mind as a planted foot spun the bike around on the spot, wheels squealing noisily on the dry concrete as he pointed himself back towards the staircase that would lead him back up to the rink…

OOC: Sorry guys/gals. I would write out more, but I realized... there was nothing to fight over that really concerned Logan now. :X

Strike one went down without a hitch. Silver Fox fell on her rump and Logan was coming back for his second strike. He made it into the air at the same time Fox recovered and slid on her way. Just as he was about to land, that stupid idiot of a girl decided to intervene. That chick never learned as she slid forward and waited. There was something deep within Logan that was getting agitated as her “talons” pierced his chest. It wasn’t the animal within him, but an annoyance that fluttered within. Master of multiple combat my ass. When was the last time he actually managed to take someone out in battle? He was having troubles remembering. Maybe it was the blood now spilling on the ice making his memory hazy. Or maybe he was getting rusty. He had been speared through the gut on several occasions, stabbed in the chest too many times to count, shot in the head, struck in the limbs, and what did he have to account for it? Not one damn thing.

Well, he took that back as he pushed himself to his knees. He did behead Sabretooth, but he really wasn’t involved with that fight. He’d taken to be a punching bag for every damn villain out there. ‘Hey, I’m Wolverine! Strike me and I’ll heal!’ Did anybody else have to deal with that? No. Did he like it? No. Did he take it? He had no other choice. There was a certain moment in every man’s life where there was only so much shit they could take. He stood up, ignoring the blood building up in his mouth as his lung healed. He cracked his neck with a roll of his head, wiping his lips off with the back of his arm. He heard the gunshot and cracking of ice, but didn’t care. He did see, however, the small balls rolling wherever they pleased. This fight was really getting annoying and pointless. Logan was always up for a good scrap, but going against Fox and the midget girl? Not even worth it. The people were gone, Fox proved her point, so what else was there to do? Ah, right. Nothing. What were Logan and Jean going to do now? Save ice?

Logan looked at Fox and X-23, raised a nostril, snorted, then looked away. He sent a mental twinge toward Jean to open the “door.” Fox threw somethin’ in the cracks. Take yer pick as to what they are. He was seriously not interested in fighting now there was nothing to… fight for. His vehicle was still out by the parking lot, but he really didn’t feel the need to leave Jean by herself. The worst thing was, really, all of them were standing in a hole. The skating rink was, quite literally, under ground level, and the stairs leading up to the sidewalks that led to the parking area was clear now. Thanks to that, the most harm Fox’s toys would do is probably more to herself than anything.

Wolvy frowned, still standing by myself, turning back toward Fox. "When I killed Sabretooth, I was thinkin' nobody like him would be around again. Yer off blowin' shit up for no reason except to hurt people, Kayla. I used to think that ain't you, but now here you are provin' me wrong. If you want to act like this, you can forget about that God damn cabin." He was beyond annoyed with her and this entire situation. "Even if yer with Sinister, the Fox I knew at Weapon X kept herself from killin' an entire squad of X-Men because she knew it was wrong. Now that Sinister doesn't have Creed, he needs a new one, right? He needs another blood thirsty feral to take Creed's place, and for someone who despised everything Creed was, yer takin' his place easier than I would have thought." Huffing, Logan shot Fox a look of disgust. "Any Creed rip-off ain't worth my time." He blew off the two girls and skated toward Jean and Deadpool. “You want those two ladies over there? You can have ‘em. Leave this one alone. She’s mine.” He gave his typical ‘Logan scowl’ and ‘Logan low growl’ as a warning. Not that it would do any good, but… hey, it was something. He's got a healin' factor--probably better than mine, he shot toward Jean. He finished with an abrupt mental sigh showing his annoyance.

~Silver Fox. Cease all efforts of chaos this very moment. I want to see your hands in the air away from your body or I will take you out of commission.~

The message was delivered in a very discomforting manner. She felt some foreign force in her head, wandering into her space. The only outward sign of pain was the minor twisting of Fox's beautiful features. The Fox presently acting did not respond, but the part of her that she'd been arguing with did.

||I'd advise that you go ahead and do it. She's not stable and won't stop unless you do.|| Let the telepath make what she would of the message. She had wormed her way into the active Fox's space, but /only/ her mental space. The voice that had 'responded' sounded like the Fox running around right now, save for a change in inflection. Or..a lack thereof. The statement came plainly, bluntly, and without concern. More importantly, without the pain she should have been in. Jean was disturbing some of the residents, but had yet to reach her. Apparently unmindful of the fact that a mental bolt from Jean would be quite 'unpleasant', the pain was obviously not a concern to the other inactive piece of Fox. It would make one wonder just what would happen if Jean struck.

For her part, the active Fox replied out loud. "Put my hands up?" Shoving the pain away, Fox's mouth shifted into a sneer. "You must be joking." That sounded like she'd be imprisoned or something shortly after, probably just long enough for the authorities to arrive - that is, if Red wasn't holding them off right now too. Imprisonment? Nothing short of Weapon X would be able to hold her. Actually not even Weapon X if she could help it. This was a golden moment of freedom and she'd be damned if some hero ended it out of a 'sense of duty and justice' or some shit like that.

That would have prompted an attack, to be sure. However, Laura's timing spared the feral as she shoved Deadpool in Jean's direction. A more-than-suitable distraction, Fox was left to continue as she pleased.

“You’re not Fox.”

She was a confusing one, this girl. Fox-but-apparently-not-Fox smiled in a manner that suggested she was thinking of something unpleasant. Or feeling something unpleasant, Jean was still doing the tango in her head after all. Not really damaging anything - not yet anyway - but stilll making her presence known. Known and painful. "You think so?" She managed not to sound like she was suffering.

||Likely because our whole self wasn't the sort to arbitrarily--||

^There was nothing arbitrary about this!^

||You think so?|| A mocking throw back of her own words just seconds ago. 'Was'?

^Oh, so we're a comedian now.^

||I don't find this situation amusing at all. It's only a matter of time before I feel it too after all.|| came the plain statement. The redhead's dance floor was widening and she'd be dancing all in her space too soon enough. She wasn't looking forward to it. ||She's still talking to us you know.||

^Correction - She's talking to /me/.^ The comment about the redhead was ignored.

“But until the real one surfaces…” -- “…I am at your side.”

A peculiar act of loyalty. Idly, Fox wondered what she'd done to warrant it. That pondering lasted roughly five seconds before she moved on. So she wouldn't have to worry about this one..except for brief moments of indiscretion. Like grabbing those skates and tossing them away. Her initially-imagined plan obviously wasn't going to happen, not with this lot so determined. However, Fox wasn't mad or even deterred. This wasn't over, contrary to popular belief. Mostly because some woman was still in her head, causing pa--discomfort. The feral frowned at the apparent weakness and immediately steeled herself. What was her problem? This wasn't pain; Fox knew pain, it was an old and constant friend. By comparison, Jean was /tickling/ her right now.

Wolverine, naturally, had other thoughts. All the people had gone on, one way or another. Apparently seeing no reason to continue, he left Laura and Silver Fox to their own devices. Fox was slightly puzzled by the lack of aggression, honestly expecting further attack. However, it seemed that the heroes really were only interested in protecting those mindless idiots. Barring that, she wasn't something to be handled anymore. Or, at least, Wolverine had decided so. The redhead was another story. Deadpool too, since Fox couldn't say where he'd go with his confrontation. She could blow the ice. She could attack still. She could do /something/ that would hopefully discourage Red from continuing the course she was on. She could do a lot of things, but she'd made her point right?

Sort of.

Fox wasn't done, but she was done /here/. The woman's pretty mouth thinned into a line. Something had to be done about this woman.

Alternatively, someone in there felt like warning Jean about something. ||I would advise that you not venture much further..Red.|| These two versions of Fox didn't recall ever meeting Jean and so, if her name was ever acquired later, they didn't know it now. ||You may wake up someone that should be left to its slumber.|| A growl, not threatening, but the sort of sound an animal would make when its sleep was being disturbed.

A sigh. ||We have a problem.||

Fox grimaced. "I think you'd better call it a day on my head Red - you're disturbing other residents," she called out. Even this demented version of Fox didn't want a particular aspect or two awake and contemplating the seizing of the reins. Nevermind that the statement, so easy to throw out from her perspective, implied a number of things that wouldn't necessarily settle well with others present. She didn't care; her mental fracturing wasn't something Fox felt the urge to hide away. It wasn't anything weak or shameful to her. It's just how it was right now.

But what was this? Wolverine had not left them behind? He turned, frowning. "When I killed Sabretooth, I was thinkin' nobody like him would be around again. Yer off blowin' shit up for no reason except to hurt people, Kayla. I used to think that ain't you, but now here you are provin' me wrong. If you want to act like this, you can forget about that god damn cabin."

Absolute silence. Wolverine had killed Sabretooth? Really? Fox grinned; fantastic. She wished that she had seen it. Overgrown tabby cat, always so overbearing and hovering over her like meat, something to be pounced upon. He deserved to die. Of course, the latter part of the speech was not at all appreciated. Was she being accused of mindless crime? Was she...being compared to that simpleton Creed?

'Kayla' was not active, but could see and hear all just the same. Recent actions had occurred while she was tucked away, shell-shocked from initially seeing the love of her life with another...her number one had moved on. But when Wolverine had called out to her with the 'white woman' name she'd been gifted with...she had perked up and ventured out to listen. Predictably, she didn't take Wolverine's words too well. They cut deep and burned just as badly. While this was a justified tongue-lashing..on the active Fox, poor little Kayla hadn't actually done anything. The venomous words were coming from left field to her and she recoiled. First the redhead and now this? Kayla was devastated.

Active Fox? She was pissed. Whereas she'd been all twisted smiles before, she wasn't smiling anymore.

"Even if yer with Sinister, the Fox I knew at Weapon X kept herself from killin' an entire squad of X-Men because she knew it was wrong. Now that Sinister doesn't have Creed, he needs a new one, right? He needs another blood thirsty feral to take Creed's place, and for someone who despised everything Creed was, yer takin' his place easier than I would have thought."

||Sinister? Do we know him?||

^Who the hell cares - did you hear what he just said to me!?^

"Any Creed rip-off ain't worth my time."

And now she angry.

“Look Wade, you want those two ladies over there? You can have ‘em. Leave this one alone. She’s mine.”

Something slammed shut in her head, but the active fragment didn't give a damn. So he was going to give his speech and walk away? Dismiss her like she was supposed to take it? Just like that?

"You smug, self-righteous, judgmental bastard," she hissed. Get real. "Who the hell do you think you're talking to? This," she gestured to the rink, "is far more than the senseless, aimless rampaging that Creed would have done. How /dare/ you imply that my mental scope is any where near as narrow as his." She wished she had more bombs left so that she could grab him by the collar and shovel them down his throat.

"Don't you dare pretend that this false peace doesn't make you sick. Tranquility built on /lies/. We've both seen cities brought to their /knees/ over less than this, /destroyed/ over the same lies; hell we were the ones that did it half of the time! This was more than just 'blowin' up shit', it was a /wake up call/. You know as well as I do what's /really/ out there. Just because you turned hero, settled in with Red, and can stomach their ignorance doesn't mean that I will." No more bombs, but she had a detonator, guns, knives, and some imaginative ways to carve someone's heart out.

Screw walking away, he was asking for it. "Don't you stand there and lecture me like I'm some simple puppet happily dancing to a long-distance master's tune. I am so much more than that and you fucking know it. I don't know about trying to not kill any X-Men squad for Weapon X, I don't know who 'Sinister' is supposed to be, I don't even care about the rest of the babble-shit you spewed, but I'll be damned if you make me out as some willing puppet Creed-replacement! I'll make sure the /whole damn world/ gets the wake up call it needs long before Weapon X can ever hope to re-capture me and damn the consequences. So you can stand there and cover your eyes with everyone else if you want, /I don't fucking care/.

"So fuck you, fuck your girlfriend who's /moments/ from waking up someone that should really stay sleeping, fuck the ignorant morons you want to save so damn badly from a death threat they /would/ have seen coming if they knew what was /really/ happening out there." When the world went to hell, those same idiots would turn to the heroes and ask, 'Why didn't you warn us? Why didn't you tell us this was out there, waiting for us?' Fuck, /she/ was the hero here. She was /warning/ people.

||Stop. Stop! You're waking it up!||

The warning went unheeded and Fox's tumultuous blue orbs flashed a bright mako green. "Do what you want; say what you want," except for anything that included comparing her to Creed and making her out as a willing puppet of course, "but don't you stand there and pretend like you are so much better. You have /no/ right to judge me and without your precious little heroes' club to keep you on your /leash/, maybe even just without Miss Red there to /keep you in check/, you'd be Just. Like. /Me/."

Fox sneered. More mako green. "You feel like I do, somewhere in there you do. It's just been /trained/ out of you now. Such a good little feral. Stop them Wolverine, don't kill them Wolverine, we have to save them Wolverine, this is how things are supposed to be Wolverine. Do you believe in the things that the heroes believe? Do you have the same desires? Same goals in mind? Do you /care/?" He might say yes, he might say it didn't matter.

It didn't.

"Do you want what they want Logan? Do you /really/? Let's hear some sincerity here! Having seen what you've seen...having /done/ what you've done." A disapproving look - clawed finger wagging, but mako irises cold and biting. "Tsk tsk...we both know better..." Or at least she did. Logan seemed to have forgotten everything he'd ever learned. All he'd ever seen. He'd become...complacent. So disappointing. And to think that he'd been her favorite of the team...

"I wonder which of us is /really/ the puppet here?" she queried flatly. Her eyes were their disturbed silver-blues again. She had yet to attack, but her slender metal claws had slid out at least four inches. She was armed, clawed, and thoroughly pissed off. She didn't need any more provocation. It made you wonder what she was waiting for. At least the anger helped override the pai--discomfort of Jean's mental intruding.

Laura stood there. Ready for the fierce attack that was sure to come her way once her predecessor healed from his wounds. Of course from the stories she had heard of the Legendary Wolverine it was quite possible that he would be on his feet to strike her down before the wounds had even began to mend. Her attack would’ve slain a normal man where she was only trying to slow the feral fighter down. He was the man she was made to replace as the greatest weapon created so she was sure that he would have the same rage filled thirst for a fight as she did. The beat of her heart began to pump a little harder with adrenaline of finally seeing how she stood up against the man who was the reason for her being. The air around her was so charged to the point it was surprising the ice didn’t melt around her once Logan stood to his feet. ‘This is it. Me and you.’, she thought to herself ready to go tooth and claw with him. Would she make it through, she was not sure. One thing was clear, she’d put her all into this battle. But the air returned to its icy, chill ones Logan made no movement towards her or Fox. Confusion and shock ran through her being as if she had just been stuck with cattle prod. He just looked their way and snorted as if they were of no real concern to him. As if she was of no importance? Like she was some insignificant flea unworthy of him even bothering to pop out his claws. Who the hell did he think he was? She was created to surpass him and yet once again he showed very interest in her existence. Gripping her fingers into a fist so tight a small trickle of blood dripped down her palm from where her fingernails had cut into her flesh. Rage coursed through her body. Eyes turning a crimson red as she took a step to charge after him seconds before her mind was shut down from the inside. Her gaze falling dead as her body dropped to the hard floor.

Someone had reached in and turned off the lights. No other culprit but the redheaded mind bitch. Clearly entrusting Deadpool with such an easy task proved to be more than his psychotic mind could handle. As her thoughts dimmed the last thing that coursed through her mind, along with the urge to poke even more holes into Wade’s brain, was her confusion of these people calling themselves heroes. Here she was a relative child in the eyes of anyone who was unaware of her Weapon-X design. Standing among a woman loaded with enough fire arms and bombs to take down an entire S.W.A.T. team and an escaped psyche ward patient wielding swords and guns. Yet the woman was handled with kids gloves, the man was ignored and the child was shot in the head with a mental bullet. Where was the heroics in those actions? Sure she did send Wade to put a bullet in the redhead’s skull and had already stabbed a member of her team, but she was the ‘bad guy’ here. Didn’t the heroes play from a different rule book? It was of little concern to the already mending mind of the feral child. Jean had hit her with a strong, non-lethal attack that her mind was already healing from. While she was still unable to command her muscles to move while she lied on the frozen floor, her hearing was working perfectly fine. Although she felt as if her mind was still fried from the words she heard. This legendary unstoppable beast that had been created to be the greatest weapon was preaching to Fox. Settling this battle with words instead of with his bare hands. Was this really Wolverine? Had his reason for not charging them both been due to his new ‘leashed’ persona? Had the X-men changed the beast of legend into a tamed pup? Her mind replayed the image of the man who stabbed her in the gut for getting to close. The fire in his eyes. The feral. As her actual sight regained she looked at him now standing there. This was the man she had been chasing after? The man she was seeking approval or attention from? Her lids blinked as the control of her muscles slowly returned towards the beginning of Fox’s rant.

Sluggish arms helped to push Laura from the floor. “Hey Reds, might wanna try something a little harder next time.” How annoyed she was growing with these mental games others were playing in her head. Fighting the feeling as if her entire body had fallen asleep she eventually got back to her feet as Fox finished given Logan a piece of her mind. “If this is some sort of joke I ain’t laughing.” Taking some deep breaths before turning in the direction of the others, “Are you really Wolverine?” Shaking her head in disbelief. Her tone and emotion matched that of child who had just learned Santa Claus did not exist. “You can’t be?” Standing she just looked at him. Disbelief and bewilderment morphed into someth996515ing else as Fox’s words began to sink into her head as well. “All this time I thought those bastards at Weapon-X created me in your image because you were too deadly for them to dare challenge. But now…” Snorting in his direction in a manner identical to his own, “…I see the truth. They made me because you were too tamed for them to even bother coming after.” She recalled as he retracted his claws in the middle of a battle, allowed his opponents to go on untouched by his wrath. All evidence that not only had he made foolish calls in the midst of combat but that he had gone soft since rejoining the X-men. “They didn’t want to recreate another you…they wanted to create a better you.” Now Laura wasn’t looking to be the next prize winner of the Weapon –X Project, but she could see why they were so eager to replace their last attempt of a weapon. Why they tried to beat every ounce of humanity out of her. To avoid her turning into…this. All this time she had been trying to measure up to the legend before her but now found he was no longer fit to carry that title. In their eyes he was sure to seem like a failed project. “The X-Men didn’t put you on a leash. They fucking neutered you! Reds has more balls in battle than you.” Towards the end her tone began to sour with disgust.

Withdrawing her claws she made a slow stride in Fox’s direction. “Fox…let’s go. He’s not worth it.” Fox, Logan and Laura were all cut from the same cloth. Ferals that had been forged into trained weapons. But it seemed that that thread that connected them was slowly unrevealing. Cold eyes looked on at her predecessor as she tried to adjust her own image of this man into what he truly seemed to be. Part of her had hoped that he could’ve given her answers. To understanding who or what she was. On how she could survive outside of the cage Weapon-X had built for her. But if this was the only option, to become someone else’s loyal pet, then he was not the one to save her. If saving her was even an option anymore.

This was a hot mess. She was momentarily distracted by Logan before he started talking. Who was this guy? He hadn't really done anything evident one way or another. It was ...annoying. Of course, one rarely knew your opponent. That was the way life worked sometimes. "You could, but then I could God-Mod and skip over those entire paragraphs that have to do with you doing anything like that, pop in there, knock you out, and still be home in time for the Golden Girls."

Could he really do that? That was the big question. He started to lean against her bubble, and she narrowed her eyes. Almost curious to see if he could break through it. There weren't many who could. "Wolf-A-Log, mind telling your New Girl who I am while you're busy trying to beat your Old Girl's face in? I could use the support over here. I really don't want to have to put a bullet in her head so she doesn't do any psycho voodoo on me. Wolf Boy? Are you listening to me?" And still, she waited. He seemed to love to talk and right now there wasn't anything for her to say.

"Really, I don't want to," Deadpool looked back at Jean lazily. "You're cute, I'm handsome, I think we'd be great. And don't think about hitting me up with your scary 'I'll make you think you're a six year old and have Logan braid your hair' either. 'Cause I'm on to you," his index finger stabbed at the shield between them, "you're one of those 'I love the world' types that can't do anything mean and nasty to people unless they do something mean and nasty first. And if you aren't, and you're one of those 'I wish I loved the world' wanna-be's, then taking me out before I do anything mean or nasty would only prove you'll never be a 'I love the world' type. So ya got to ask yourself, am I worth it? I know I am, but do you?"

Somewhere, heard a motorcycle rev up, but she didn't see any clue of it. When she felt Logan knocking at their proverbial door, she threw it open. Should have done that back when shit hit the fan considering it was a prime communication connection between the two. Fox threw somethin’ in the cracks. Take yer pick as to what they are. Eyes flitted over to the cracks and she made a mental note of it. Right now no one that she cared about was near them. A quick scan of their area revealed no one close enough to be harmed by an explosion. Of course, she didn't know how strong they were. Just in case, she extended the shield she held over herself to under herself too. And as Logan left the little trio, a sense of defeat about him, though not of the battle itself...more of life, if that was possible, she extended the TK shield around him as well. Just because he -could- heal something like that didn't mean he would want to.

Logan, started talking to Fox. Jean committed the words to memory without really analyzing him. There was more happening. The child was starting to rouse, which meant that she too had a healing factor. Geez. He's got a healin' factor--probably better than mine, Jean's mind picked up the comment, and she didn't even bother nodding, just sent an affirmative his way via their link, a feeling not really a set of words. Lovely, that telepathy sometimes. At least that made her decision about what she could safely do to him easier. She just needed something to distract him enough to where she didn't have to worry about him being a threat.

Meanwhile, it seemed, Fox's mind was sending words her way. Only, it didn't have the same flavor that Fox's mind should while it was speaking to her. ||I'd advise that you go ahead and do it. She's not stable and won't stop unless you do.|| "Put my hands up?" Shoving the pain away, Fox's mouth shifted into a sneer. "You must be joking." Unfortunately, she would see just how much Jean wasn't joking. Fox was broken. That was the only thing that she could think of. And unfortunately that didn't help their situation any. Mentally stable or not, she was still a problem. Considering she was still "locked in" to Fox's mind, she heard the conversation that the woman was apparently having with herself. Back and forth, like a ping pong tourney. Listening but not really. What she was doing was replaying in her mind all of the interaction she had with Wade this far. She could probably crush his trachea and keep it synched long enough for them to make some sort of decision. But that was, after all needless violence.

At this point, she wouldn't really care, considering he had a healing factor, so it kind of neutralized her whole code of ethics. And again, the voice within Fox addressed her directly. ||I would advise that you not venture much further..Red.|| These two versions of Fox didn't recall ever meeting Jean and so, if her name was ever acquired later, they didn't know it now. ||You may wake up someone that should be left to its slumber.|| Interesting. "I think you'd better call it a day on my head Red - you're disturbing other residents,"

Her lips pressed together but that was the only motion that she made. Right now, she was still feeling okay. She wasn't overtaxing herself since she really hadn't done anything yet. She was still holding her cards tightly to her chest. Fox started speaking again.

She was focused. Focused on Fox and Wade, and then lesser, Laura. She figured that the girl was the very least threat of them all. She was starting to twitch more now, moving certain muscles. Coming to. Knocking her out had been a good idea. So she couldn't get hurt. Even better now so considering she could heal whatever Jean through her way.

There! She had it! Right before Wade had "appeared" from one point, closer to her at another point, he had touched his belt. It was such a small detail, but it could speak volumes. Jean liked her chances, if not, he would intercept her despite her TK bubble. In a half of a second between the decision and the action, she sought her TK to rip off his belt and hoisted it oh so high in air wrapping a TK bubble around it, then she sent her TK to do the same for Wade. It wouldn't be enough for him to be immobile, just ...unable to move his arms further than a couple of inches from his sides, and he couldn't take any steps. He could still move his head. The only noise she made was inside his head. ~Sorry, honey...I'll take my chances with the Canadian. Considering I don't know what team you're on yet, you'll just have to sit this one out.~

"You smug, self-righteous, judgmental bastard," she hissed. Get real. "Who the hell do you think you're talking to? This," she gestured to the rink, "is far more than the senseless, aimless rampaging that Creed would have done. How /dare/ you imply that my mental scope is any where near as narrow as his."

Her eyes darted to Fox and they narrowed, amber brows furrowing over her eyes.

"Don't you dare pretend that this false peace doesn't make you sick. Tranquility built on /lies/. We've both seen cities brought to their /knees/ over less than this, /destroyed/ over the same lies; hell we were the ones that did it half of the time! This was more than just 'blowin' up shit', it was a /wake up call/. You know as well as I do what's /really/ out there. Just because you turned hero, settled in with Red, and can stomach their ignorance doesn't mean that I will."

She could feel her blood start to boil and grow hot in her veins. But she stayed silent. It was so hard to get Logan to feel good about himself, about the kind of man that he was. She wasn't going to let some crazed witch from his past screw that up for him.

"Don't you stand there and lecture me like I'm some simple puppet happily dancing to a long-distance master's tune. I am so much more than that and you fucking know it. I don't know about trying to not kill any X-Men squad for Weapon X, I don't know who 'Sinister' is supposed to be, I don't even care about the rest of the babble-shit you spewed, but I'll be damned if you make me out as some willing puppet Creed-replacement! I'll make sure the /whole damn world/ gets the wake up call it needs long before Weapon X can ever hope to re-capture me and damn the consequences. So you can stand there and cover your eyes with everyone else if you want, /I don't fucking care/.

"So fuck you, fuck your girlfriend who's /moments/ from waking up someone that should really stay sleeping, fuck the ignorant morons you want to save so damn badly from a death threat they /would/ have seen coming if they knew what was /really/ happening out there."

Jean was shaking. She had to grip her hands tightly to the rink that she was holding in order for it not to filter through to her body. She slammed the door shut through their mental link, unsure exactly why she did, though she didn't take her eyes off of Fox.

"Do what you want; say what you want," except for anything that included comparing her to Creed and making her out as a willing puppet of course, "but don't you stand there and pretend like you are so much better. You have /no/ right to judge me and without your precious little heroes' club to keep you on your /leash/, maybe even just without Miss Red there to /keep you in check/, you'd be Just. Like. /Me/."

Fox sneered. More mako green. "You feel like I do, somewhere in there you do. It's just been /trained/ out of you now. Such a good little feral. Stop them Wolverine, don't kill them Wolverine, we have to save them Wolverine, this is how things are supposed to be Wolverine. Do you believe in the things that the heroes believe? Do you have the same desires? Same goals in mind? Do you /care/?"

Jean pushed off of the rink but didn't take a step further, she didn't trust herself. The rest of what Fox said filled on deaf ears because Jean was so pissed her ears had started ringing. She felt her heart pounding in her chest. "You shut your fucking mouth. Logan is a great man -because- of his control. I've got news for you...people like you who take the easy road out and do what they want are just too chicken shit to even try being in control. You don't want to be compared to Creed? Creed had no restraint. He had no ethics. Tell me what about this situation has either of those points? How dare you...who can't even get her own mind straight try to criticize someone who strives to be a better person? You make me sick." Within her, she felt something changing. She couldn't really describe it, but it felt like her blood had turned to molten lava. It was almost a soothing, crisp feeling. Like she was more alive, more electric. Her eyes, by side effect of her using her powers had started to burn. Flames danced like a ethereal carnival mask along the bridge of her nose and through her jade hues which were turned an eerie shade of olive. Dispassionately, she thought, 'This is new.' But it didn't really register the way that it should. All she could see was the fire in her vision. The heat. The anger. Unknowingly to her...she was channeling Logan. Channeling the beast that he had so carefully put into check so many times before.

She didn't even know it was happening, but her hand had been extended, fingers splayed out towards Fox. "No more talking." Her lips mumbled and she felt her TK reach out, in time with her hand, making a move to crush Fox's trachea. It felt so good, that motion. And she would keep it crushed too. Just like she had been intending to do with Wade. And that was it. She didn't hear Laura, she didn't see Wade or Logan. Just Fox. Oh, the TK shields were still in place, and her body was still stoic, but her insides were an inferno. Deliciously burning to a crisp.

"Whoa, Honey," Wade breathed, finding himself held in place while his head remain free to tip back and watch his belt rise into the air. "Da-mn, girl." Both white sockets in his mask wide open with renewed interest, the Merc stared at the red head before him. "You move this fast with everyone? If you weren't playing Dominatrix I'd help you get these clothes off, but I guess you're settin' the pace. Don't worry about ol' Wade, here, he's ready."

"Drop my drawers and call me," one eye after the other popped open, "Reddy. Logan," he craned his head around to look for ol' stinky boy, "I see why you like her. Fox and X weren't so 'interesting' if ya know what I mean." A soft chuckle grew under his words before Wade stood there--with no choice--watching Wolverine. "Wait, you know what I mean, right? I mean. Red head. Takes off my belt. Well you aren't doing anything else I ask you to. Have they kept you on the wagon or what?" A drunk Logan was a smart Logan. Yes that was an oxymoron. Smart Logan. He he.

Oh, but then there was the whole Woman Thang. Deadpool stood there, quietly watching the entire affair. One long monologue followed by one short, defensive rant, and a small tyke lookin' to put the whole thing behind them. A wise man would know to stay the hell out of it. No one ever said Wade was particularly wise. "Hey, hey, girls. I know we're on the whole 'Bitch, Please' page of this epic drama of As The World Turns, but I'm stuck in a bubble, Fox is as nutty as a Payday, Young-Thang's just tryin' to keep you star crossed lovers from going all psycho, and Sexy Lady Gray..." Wade tipped his head to one side, "yeah, she's losing it. So, before you destroy half the city in a rage of womanly rage could you do me one favor? Let a poor Wade go. Think of all the very bad, bad people out there I could kill if you just... let a poor Wade go."

After he rolled his head the other way, Deadpool looked at Logan next. "Come on. Do something useful. You know I don't kill people unless I'm paid for it. Or if they look at me the wrong way. Or I get that feeling--you know, that sexy, sexy feelin'? Besides, don't you have a raging, hormonal, woman-friend to worry about? Like, both of them. On their periods. BIG TIME. I'd run, but I kind of can't. Help a brotha' out."

OOC: Hope you don't mind me skipping your post, Rich. :) Thought your reveal (if you're still going for it) would have more impact if most of the drama was dealt with before then.

You know, when Logan talked, he expected people to listen. Sure half the things he said people didn’t want to hear, but what he said was always the truth, even when people didn’t want to hear it. He was used to the flare ups of emotions when it came to facing the truth, and expected Fox to just sneer and rip him to shreds with her eyes. It’s all that he could remember her doing. The more he thought about it, the more he was confused in calling her Kayla. The name just slipped out of his mouth, foreign yet familiar, disgusting yet comforting, it was a paradox upon itself and Logan didn’t have the patience to figure out what in the hell it meant. Instead, he was focusing in on Deadpool, mentally shoving the man-kid off a cliff hoping he’d find himself stuck in a canyon for eternity. He didn’t hear in his head what Jean told Deadpool, but gave a grunt as the man and belt parted ways. “Here comes the friggin’ monologue,” he muttered.

Right on cue, Deadpool started. See, when Deadpool talked, no one was expected to listen. It was just second nature by now; a complete and total opposite to Logan. Logan spoke, people listened, and got in a tizzy. When Deadpool spoke, people ignored, and life was easier. The man in the bubble couldn’t do jack shit now, so what else could he do? Talk. Bolt his mouth shut while yer at it, he thought-muttered.

On an unexpected cue, Silver Fox spoke, and it wasn’t just a few scant words here and there. She continued on, and on, and for once, Logan was actually listening. He couldn’t recall much about the woman before Weapon X, besides knowing they were together before captured and had been in love at a cabin Nick Fury had pointed out to him, but never had he recalled her bitching away like some dog in a kennel tryin’ to be louder than the rest. He so wasn’t in the mood for this. First came the name calling, then the rhetorical questions, then the denial, then the judgment call, then the history—he mentally filed that back for an immediate rebuke once he got the chance after all the time Fox denied every part of history she seemed to own—then came the spiel, then the threats, then the "fucks," then the questions, then the ultimate puppet assumption. That was one doozy of a rant, wasn’t it? During the rant, he heard the “door” shut in his head and sighed.

Wasn’t it lovely how none of this was affecting him? Wasn’t it fantastic how people just assumed he was shutting down? Sure he shut down, because they weren’t worth the effort, but now it seemed they were dragging him out to play because they had nothing better to do than to poke the bear. Oh, now look. The little girl had something to say. Created in my image, huh? He didn’t pick up the whole nine-yards with that comment. “Created” in his image meant to him they plucked some girl and made her suffer every bit of training he had to go through. He could sympathize for the girl, if she wasn’t such a God damn prick. Heh, somethin’ we got in common. So they made “X-23” to become a “better” Wolverine, huh? Yeah, right. No, they just recaptured him for the fun of it. Assumptions were just runnin’ all around, weren’t they?

Wait, it’s not over. Ah, hell... That was a "good" ah hell. Logan couldn’t help it. A surge of elation coursed through him as someone was actually defending him. He was so used to defending himself, it was nice to see someone stick up for him for once. What he didn’t expect—and this was the shocker—was Jean swearing. That’s when he realized something was off. It didn’t sound like her. Hell, he didn’t even know Jean knew what “chicken shit” meant in terms of an insult. In fact, she was sounding a lot like him. Logan mentally “checked” the door, making sure it was closed, as it still was. Then what in the world was going on? Logan’s eyes shot toward Jean’s face, seeing the fire curl around eyes. Uh oh… It had been a long time since he had seen fire on the woman. His face immediately drooped—the hairs on his arms were springing to life like soldiers standing in line to march toward battle. His instincts were nearly making his skin crawl with both fear and anticipation. When Logan felt fear; the world was two seconds from dying.

He couldn’t say he knew what was going on. Logan didn’t know Jean was channeling something in his head. He didn’t feel her worming inside his psyche like he normally could; if he did, maybe he would have known she was picking up on a side of him that she should have never ventured toward. But this was the beast. If an explanation had to be made—and guessing how this was only a hypothesis—the beast often ventured out during extreme moments of emotion, such as anger. With Jean and Logan’s mental connection, maybe it traveled through that invisible line, aroused by the anger that came from Jean, and some how merged her emotions with its own deadly rage. If Logan actually knew that, he’d probably be flipping out, more pissed at Jean for getting too deep in his head for her own good. But right now, Jean threw out her hand, and the hand was aimed for Fox. Logan knew “deadly” when he saw it. He knew a “threat” when his instincts flared up. His entire body was telling him Jean was both.

Logan was done being silent. Jean wasn't going to kill anyone. That wasn't her, and Logan already figured the Jean in front of him wasn't "her" either. His hand reacted quicker than he even registered, acting purely on instinct than to actually think about the result. The field Jean placed over him and her were one in the same—a large bubble, so to speak, protecting them both. There was no telekinetic interference blocking his hand from piercing the soft tissue on Jean’s neck. To say it bluntly: Logan went Xena on Jean’s ass. It came with the knowledge in being trained for so many years. With one quick hit, his blow was aimed to stimulate the muscle to cut off the blood flow from the jugular veins, effectively dulling or “nullifying” the barorecepter at the same time. If his hit was true, there would be no blood going to the brain. A telepath would be useless if the mind “suffered.” The blood would build up, even for a split second, which would cause a brief nose bleed. He aimed to strike again, undoing everything he intended to do, allowing blood to flow once more.

Logan felt bad once he did it. Jean was, in the end, only trying to defend him. He stood by her protectively, giving her the chance to recover, should she need it. A quick look aimed to make sure she was okay, but he also shot a look toward Fox, ignoring the fact she was attacked and could be trying to recover. “Looks like to me you were the damn puppet.” Literally. Nothing like being controlled by a telekinetic. “Get yer damn head on straight. Weapon X ain’t comin’ after ya because the place was blown up. If ya understand English, that means you’ve got nothin’ to prove. So back the hell off.”

Logan wasn’t done yet. He looked toward the teenager. “Why in the hell do you even talk? You haven’t said one damn thing that makes any sense. I ain’t interested in fightin’ ya because I already kicked yer ass. You aren’t even a challenge—and yer a God damn girl. Get off yer high horse and go play with a damn Barbie. Quit playin’ grown up games when you ain’t got a chance of winnin’.” Was it obvious he was frustrated?

“And do you ever shut the hell up?” Logan growled to Deadpool. “Go find Weapon X. Wanna know why? Yer girlfriend happened to be posin’ as the Director. Who knows? Maybe she was blown up when it all came crumblin’ down.”

With a final huff, he turned back toward Fox. “The day you want help, then you come to me. I know some where in that head a’ yours is the Fox that I remember. That Fox didn’t go around and blow shit up, and neither did I before Weapon X. If I can at least try to be the person I was like when I first met ya… then bein’ neutered is well worth the price.” Truly, it was. Fox and X-23 could think whatever they wanted of him, because right now—being in a place that actually wanted him despite what he did—he was as happy as he could generally be. Not a lot of people got that type of acceptance; he was trying his best not to screw it up.