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Choose Your Own X-Venture: A Semester Abroad
🕑 Added 2016-04-05 21:48:45 +0000 UTC A/N: This seems to call for a little explanation. The goal of this project is to be a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure (or dating sim, if you’d rather) for the X-Men universe. The reader will guide the actions of a new student at the X-Mansion, Chris, as he navigates the complexities of being a modern mutant. At the end of each chapter, Chris will be presented with two or more options as to how the story will continue, which will be determined by reader vote.I should also note that there is a larger story involving the adult X-Men: Scott and Emma at first, but other characters will show up. Their plot intertwines with Chris’s, but is not influenced by vote, except insomuch as Chris’s actions affect them (which they will). So please don’t vote for Logan to stab Scott or for Scott to optic-blast Emma.
ALL THAT SAID, enjoy the story and don’t forget to vote.
When Scott got back at six o’clock, Emma was ready for him. Feeling some guilt about her afternoon of lazy masturbation with thoughts of Namor while he was hard at work, she went out of her way to make him happy. She ordered something grotesque from his favorite take-out place, and though he didn’t seem particularly appreciative of her sacrifice, she still smiled often and tried to be as friendly as possible.
Next she brought him beer while he sat and graded papers—just about the last little bit of normalcy left in their lives—and after she’d seen that he’d finished it and set the bottle aside, she slipped into the bedroom.
With the door quietly closed behind her, Emma got undressed. It’d been decided. He was going to fuck her tonight whether he liked the idea or not, so she was going to make an offering of herself, one that was as attractive and as provocative as she could.
She combed and brushed her silky-soft hair out, giving a quick shake of her head when she was through to give the golden tresses a casually tousled look. Ten she perfumed herself, dabbing with a fingertip on her throat, her firm breasts, her thighs, and finally on her sex itself.
Finally, she dug out her suitcase and found the negligee and panties she wanted: some of the last remnants of life at the Mansion, practically sacred relics now. Back in the X.S.E. days, they’d been just another novelty—sheer see-through nightie and lacy crotchless panties that were never used because when did they make love that wasn’t simply one of them ripping the other out of their clothes?
Now they might make all the difference in saving her relationship with Scott.
Emma sauntered back out into the living room of their little condo—she wished she didn’t have that word in her vocabulary—and perched on the arm of Scott’s chair with a saucy smile. For the first time in a long while, she felt like a vision of sensual delight.
Scott looked up with surprise, the red of his glasses blazing, catching the light as he looked over her. Her breasts were high and firm under the filmy negligee, dark nipples almost poking through it. The ruffled hem of the nightie ended right underneath her clinging panties, occasionally blocking the view, occasionally not, her crotch sometimes standing proudly through the transparency, pubic hair clearly visible, peeking through the slitted panties and already wetly matted.
“What’s this?” Scott asked with a nervous laugh.
“It’s your lover,” Emma grinned. “Your lover wants you. You can see how bad.”
“God, Emma…” Scott swallowed, settling back into his office chair, turning his head away. “I’m really kind of beat… it’s been a long day… can it wait a while?”
“Of course,” Emma said soothingly, having no intention of waiting. She tossed her bare legs over his lap and slid down so her ass was wedged against his crotch. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him to her, her mouth covering his in a fierce kiss.
Scott resisted at first, but the heat of her ripe body, the sweet taste of her lips, they could not be denied. He relaxed with a quiet sigh, his tongue now meeting hers, and his hand crept up to squeeze a large breast through the silk nightie.
Emma trembled with the feel of his touch on her flesh after all this time. She pulled her mouth from his, displaying a radiant smile that would’ve shocked Emma if she herself could’ve seen it, then she surprised herself more by kissing him playfully on the nose. She really had missed him. She could feel his cock stiffening already, pushing its way against her ass, his breathing quick and uneven.
“You’re making me tingle all over,” she whispered with a trace of huskiness in her voice. “It’s just like before…”
He stroked and fondled her breasts with both hands, his fingers pulling at her puckered nipples, making them swell into hardness that was desperate for more of his touch. With a fluid motion, Emma raised herself and came down facing him with her bare knees on either side of his hips. She squatted over his lap and pulled the hem of her negligee up to her chin. Her perfectly round breasts swayed gently back and forth, right in his face, the tips of them blushed scarlet red.
Scott cupped both of her full tits in his hands again, leaning forward to suck one firm nipple into his mouth. He slashed it with his tongue, pulled at it with his lips, and it hardened even more, Emma shivering as he went to work on her, her excitement rising, moistening into a slick dew in her most intimate places. With one hand still holding the nightie up, she used the other to reach down and unbuckle Scott’s belt. Unzipped him and pulled at his hands.
To her surprise, Scott helped her, lifting himself up, pushing at his pants and underwear with both hands while his mouth was still all over her tits. Then Emma felt something thick and meaty slap against her leg. She actually pushed Scott back, over the protests of her swelling breasts, to look down between their bodies.
His big cock was hard as stone, jerking straight up, the thick shaft of it quivering needfully. Emma couldn’t take her eyes off it, stiff and ready, making her pussy quiver wetly. She took his rigid cock and pushed the swollen head of it through the opening of her crotchless panties, against her slick cunt.
Scott groaned, feeling Emma sit down on his upright prick, his throbbing erection sliding right into her tight little cunt. His expression showed how good it felt, mouth hanging open, tongue practically lolling out.
Emma laughed as she took his cock all the way up her slippery sex, trembling as it lodged tightly within her. When it was fully hilted in her lush warmth, she relaxed with a little sigh. Finally, she had his jerking hardness back where it belonged, buried in her cunt, making her moan with unrestrained pleasure.
“It’s so big, Scott. Your cock’s so damn big!” she kept saying over and over, overjoyed that they were once more performing as man and woman. “I can it throbbing in my belly, Scott. My fucking belly! Fuck me with your big prick, fuck me and make me come!”
Taking a deep breath, Scott started pumping his hips up and down, his hands around her bouncing ass, squeezing her through her panties. His huge cock slid in and out of Emma, gorging her with sensation. She let go of the hem of her nightie, dropping its front over Scott’s head so he was under it with her, and she put her arms around his neck, pulling him even harder against her breasts as they giggled with her jerky motions, rubbing against his face. Just the bristly feel of his stubble between her tits had Emma gasping. Her tits were damp with sweat, Scott enjoying the salty taste, his enthusiasm for her sleek flesh back in full force. He kept sucking wildly at her hard nipples, working at them with his tongue and nibbling lightly with his teeth. He was like a machine, focusing exclusively on the sensitivity of her cleavage while his cock mindlessly pistoned between her thighs, forcing her to take even more pleasure into her slender body.
The shudders racing through Emma’s body had her groaning constantly, her sweaty ass bouncing in his lap as she took his stiff cock deeper and deeper into her hot cunt. She impaled herself on his standing cock, mewled frantically as it cleaved into her. She could no longer control her power, or she just didn’t want to, and Scott felt her thoughts rushing into his mind, echoing with the sensations she produced as she verbally whimpered.
Fuck me shove your cock up my cunt as hard as you love to feel it ramming into fuck me harder I love it harder oh God deeper keep sucking my tits shove your cock deeper squeeze my ass go deeper ream me out with your hard cock I love you!
Emma bit her lip, afraid that impertinent thought would give him pause, but he didn’t seem to notice. Still, she tamped down on her thoughts and focused on the physical. The joining of their sexes was sopping wet, Emma’s hot juices flowing from her, drenching Scott’s lap. Her knees were digging into the chair and her bare thighs were spread wide across his lap, her wiggling ass slapping into his lower body as she pumped urgently against him.
Scott, for all his seeming reluctance when they’d started, pulled Emma along at a feverish pace. He let go of her for a second, prying his fingertips under the elastic legbands of Emma’s panties, sliding his hands in to cup the bare cheeks of her ass, rubbing and massaging the erogenous zones he knew awaited him.
“Oh Scott, Scott!” Emma moaned. It really was like old times, Scott’s insistence on her pleasure, his bloody-minded drive to be a good lover and make her come, half frustrating consideration, half appealing dominance. He always made her submit to him, in the end. Submit to his love for her.
Her arms still tight around his neck, Emma brought herself down on his erection with all her might, her body jerking as he responded, lunging up against her, stiff manhood spearing up into her sex. She could feel her thighs trembling uncontrollably, her long hair brushing against her shoulders as it flew all around. She gulped air hungrily and kept pumping, finally unable to resist a stripper move, grinding herself down on his lap like she was desperate to make rent, kissing him passionately. This time he responded in force, his tongue delving into her mouth, and more than that, he bit her neck, teeth cutting into yet another erogenous zone. The pleasure forced her thoughts right out of her head—and into Scott’s.
Fuck the hell out of me so good having your cock in my cunt fuck me with it hurt me with it I love it I love ram it up my cunt and let me feel it fuck me I love fuck me fuck me I love till I can’t move Jesus Christ I can’t stand it it’s too good keep fucking me I love stiff cock keep fucking I love you’re fucking the hell out of me I love you I love you I love you
The muscles in Emma’s legs knotted up, but she didn’t even notice. She kept slamming herself down on his cock, taking him deep inside herself, her broken groans changing gradually into sharp little cries.
Then Scott tensed beneath her. Suddenly he jerked up out of the chair with a quiet gasp. His cock quivered and fired, his cum shooting straight into Emma’s cunt, filling it with wet streams. Emma hung onto him with tightening arms, her ass and thighs pumping furiously to take his spurting prick still deeper between her thighs.
Scott kept squirting his jism into the depths of her slick pussy, his hips churning while all the seed in him poured out of his throbbing cockhead. He gave a couple more quick pumps with his hips, then sank back into the chair with a weary moan.
“I didn’t come!” Emma wailed when she felt his drained cock slide from her trembling body. “Scott, don’t stop yet, I didn’t come!”
“Sorry,” Scott gulped. “I’m finished. That was great…”
“Maybe for you; I’m ready to explode! Scott, come on, I need it. At least eat me!”
“Eat my own cum?” Scott asked dubiously. “Why don’t you just finger yourself?”
Emma glared at him a moment, eyes reddening, and then she climbed off him. “Fine!” she shrieked as she stamped to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
She didn’t, though. Just stepped into the shower and let the hot water—what little there was of it—strip her of the tension that she’d meant Scott to dispel.
She knew it wasn’t his fault, not entirely. Lately, it seemed life as a mutant had been nothing but bad choices and fatal consequences. Hope had turned into a memory, they’d lost safe haven after safe haven, now reduced to colonizing a motel with a halfway friendly—halfway greedy—proprietor. With their luck, any day now the Sentinels would be in production. It seemed like the government just loved their giant, purple-headed metal weapons. Made the things at the drop of a hat.
And their relationship had suffered as well. Their time as the Phoenix, the thing with Namor—Emma had been lucky to get as much out of Scott as she had. As a psychic, as a woman, she knew he loved her, and she’d resigned herself to loving him, but what was love next to anger? What was love when they had to buy out a Motel 6, just to keep what students hadn’t returned to their parents and what teachers hadn’t joined other teams from scattering to the wind? This was the last stop before they were living on the street.
The other day, Emma had received a notice from the IRS. She was being audited. And she couldn’t even get laid.
She rested her forehead against the shower wall. The tile was of horrible quality. Gout. She couldn’t believe she was so fucking close to gout.
“This is my life,” she moaned uneasily. “This is my life, this is my life…”
She heard the door open. She’d forgot to lock the damn thing. Or no. She hadn’t forgotten. She just hadn’t thought Scott would bother.
Just because you loved someone didn’t mean you liked them.
Scott opened up the shower door. Turned off the water. With towel in hand, he rubbed Emma dry, her standing there unenthusiastically. He didn’t try to turn it into anything more and she didn’t let him.
“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s go to bed. I’ll give you a footrub. Things’ll seem better in the morning.”
“With the quality of make-up I’ve been reduced to, I doubt sunlight will do me any favors.”
“You don’t need any,” Scott said, putting his arm around her. “Come.”
“I want a pedi too,” Emma pouted. “I know you know how to give them.”
“Yes, yes. Anything you want.”
“And Scott?”
“Yes?”
I love you. “Braid my hair too.”
***
Chris could’ve slapped himself. He’d overslept again. None of the other students at Xavier’s seemed to have that problem, so used to the regimented life of X-Men training that they could roll with it even in a Motel 6, but he’d barely arrived at the Institute before everything that had gone down. He hadn’t even learned any names before they were on the run, a gypsy caravan still trying to learn how to defend a world that hated and feared them, when it looked like they couldn’t even defend himself.
Throwing on pants, he headed to the bathroom. Didn’t bother with a shower; he knew by now that the army of mutants occupying this motel had used up all the hot water ages ago, so he settled for splashing cold water from the tap in his face, his hair, as well as washing under his arms. Then he splashed on the cheap cologne that had become a prerequisite for living in these close quarters. He checked his reflection in the mirror.
He wasn’t in danger of winning any beauty contests in the near future, but at least he wouldn’t be mistaken for one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. His skin was clear and reasonably tan, his lanky hair still showing some neatness from his last haircut, his stubble too light to really need shaving. And the X-Men’s exercise regime—as well as any number of instances of running for his life—were starting to pay off. His slender body was starting to burgeon with muscles, playing beneath the skin, pushing out from his arms and thickening his legs. Maybe he should join Colossus’s weight class, really make a thing of it. Since his fashion sense was a lost cause, might as well get himself looking so good that clothes couldn’t ruin in.
Throwing on what odd clothes he had clean, he headed downstairs. The rampaging army had cleared out the breakfast buffet, but there was some bread left. Chris stuffed a slice in the toaster while he guzzled down a glass of water, brushed his teeth with his knuckle. The toast popped out, he grabbed it, and stuffed it into his mouth as he rushed to the conference room.
Late to his first day of motel school!
The conference room was packed, every inch of it crowded with mutants, and Chris pretty much had to stand out in the hall, trying to see over everyone’s shoulders as he ate his toast. He hadn’t even think to grab one of those little containers of jelly to go with it. He listened as Emma Frost spoke, making an effort in her imperially white costume, but unavoidably having it diminished by the surroundings. He noticed she was making an effort to keep track of her cape so it didn’t brush up against anything.
“Welcome, children. You may be under the impression that we’re on war footing. That your education is on hold. That this is martial law and just because we don’t have a school, your schooling is over. You could not be more wrong. We may be diminished, but until such time as one of the Avengers drops the ball and the world actually ceases to exist, we will keep preparing you to live in it. In the absence of a curriculum calculated to account for no teaching facilities, we will be spending this semester abroad. Mr. Gateway will be transporting classes of you, accompanied by a responsible adult, or in one case, Mr. Logan, to various foreign countries, where you will learn all you can about other cultures whilst continuing your current training routines.”
“Separate us into cells,” came a quietly husky voice from beside Chris. “Smart. Like cells in a terror network. Irony.” She had a way of speaking that turned conversations into haikus.
Chris looked to his left and saw Laura Kinney standing there. Then he looked all around. He’d been sure he’d been the only person outside the conference room…
“I suppose it’ll make it harder to kick us while we’re down,” Chris agreed—
“Chris, anything to add?” Emma called out, all eyes suddenly directed to the doorway, a few heads actually poking in from the sides of the doorframe to get a look at him.
“Uh, no. That all sounds fine. Carry on.”
Emma blinked once at the joke. “Please wait to hear the rest of it. I’ll now be assigning classes to chaperones for these little… field trips. Laura Kinney?”
“Yes?” Laura asked. She was now in the front row.
How the hell did she do that?
***
Two hours later, they had all packed and assembled themselves half a mile outside the Motel 6. It was off the highway, just adjoining a sizable forest, and down a trail there was a clearing that would give them some privacy. Chris found himself with the other dozen students who would be going with Scott and Emma to Australia. He wondered if it was an honor to go with the leader of the X-Men and the headmistress of the school, or if they were the basket cases that needed special attention. He didn’t feel like a basket case.
“Alright everyone,” Scott said, looking over the motley crew. Weeks on the road had done a number on their hygiene, and what once might’ve been a clean-cut group now looked like roadies, if maybe roadies for a Christian rock band. They did try a little to make themselves presentable after all. And somehow Laura seemed to regenerate with make-up intact… “Everything packed?”
A chorus of mumbled affirmatives.
“Last check,” Scott said, then did a quick headcount as they ascertained that they really did have all their bags. It felt like being back in the Boy Scouts.
Chris momentarily panicked. He didn’t have his backpack; that had his Kindle in it! He looked around and oh, yeah, he’d set it down on the ground. It also had a number of paperbacks in it that weren’t available in ebook yet, and those weighted a ton.
The thing was, Laura was holding his backpack. She offered it to him silently. He reached out his hand to take it but she moved the shoulder strap over his arm, then the other strap, putting it on him and then checking how it laid. Chris blinked a few times. From the way people talked about… X-24 was her codename? You wouldn’t think she’d be so helpful.
“You got everything?” he asked her, offering an unsteady grin.
Laura stared back at him, unblinking. “I don’t need anything.”
“Uh… maybe you’d be better off in Logan’s group?”
“Then who would kill people when they try to hurt us?”
Chris blinked enough for both of them.
“One minute warning!” Scott called. He held two suitcases and had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. From the white of the luggage, they were Emma’s bags, not his. “Does anyone need to go to the bathroom?”
They didn’t. Scott still waited a full minute, eying the group suspiciously to see if any literally last-minute concerns would come up. None did. Finally, they were down to ten seconds.
“Alright, everyone, dimensional travel is nothing to be afraid of. You may feel a little disoriented, but basically all of time and space exists in the same point to some frames of reference, so we really won’t be moving and you won’t feel a thing, just some disorientation as your surroundings change around you. So I suggest you all close your eyes. If you’re nervous, cover your ears as well. Gateway, five, four, three, two, one—“
And just like that, they were no longer on Earth.
***
“Toto, I don’t think we’re in—“
“Must you be so cliché?”
Chris struggled to his feet. He could hear moaning and groaning from the students around him—but far off, as if he were underwater—his vision was blurry—putting his hands on the ground to get himself up told him he was on a verdant, well-manicured lawn—his balance was all out of wack. Somehow, he got on two feet, almost fell, but was abruptly steadied by Laura. He saw her sniff the air, then give a shake of her head.
More voices came, clearer now: “This doesn’t look like Australia.” “It doesn’t look like a Motel 6 either.” “Where are we?” “What was that?”
Chris rubbed at his eyes. When he was done, his vision was back to normal. An automatic scouting instinct had him looking to the sky, trying to orient himself by the stars, even though it was daylight. He did, however, see the moon. It was out during the way, not unusual by itself. However…
“Guys!” Chris called out loudly—the first person who was talking instead of just thinking out loud. “Why’s the moon blue?”
“It’s the Blue Area of the Moon.” Cyclops. He was cracking his neck, looking totally unaffected by the transport. “It’s bigger, though. And not on the Dark Side of the Moon.”
“What’s that mean?” someone called.
“It means you’re a long way from home.”
That hadn’t been a student. Chris looked at the woman approaching them and was instantly taken aback. She was beautiful, and not hesitant to show it, wearing skintight black pants, black opera gloves, and nothing else save for a swath of leather that covered only her breasts, leather shaped into the sigil of the Phoenix—wings covering either orb, then the body of the bird trailing down toward her crotch.
Chris had time to think she looked incredibly familiar before all his thoughts stopped.
***
“Jean?” Scott asked, and he sounded horribly out of sorts to Emma, weak and indecisive in a way he hadn’t been for years.
She drove her fist into his arm, knocking him back to reality. “Phoenix,” she reminded him. “And she just KOed all our charges.”
“Just to keep anyone from panicking, I assure you,” Jean said. “I thought it’d be best if we talked at leisure and then you brought them up to speed.”
“We?” Emma asked.
***
There were two more, both women.
Irma looked identical to Emma, though she pushed fashion further than Emma did. She wore nothing besides her boots and a collection of diamonds covering her torso in various concentrations—tightly gathered at her crotch and nipples to hide everything from sight, scattered thin over her stomach and over her breasts to form more of an atmosphere of covering, a glimmer that was sometimes hale and heavy, sometimes no more than a sparkly on her creamy skin.
Scottie had a swimmer’s body, like Scott, the same clean-cut and All-American look, even a blue bodysuit strapped with yellow, much like Scott’s old costume. It was cut off at the waist, showing off a lean expanse of well-muscled stomach before the blue covering resumed over the breasts. Scott wondered how narcissistic it was to find her attractive.
And then there was Jean, of course. Sensing their discomfort with her, she monitored the children, still resting comfortably. So Scott and Emma were left to talk with Scottie and Irma.
“Parallel universe,” Scott said.
“At least it’s not time travel,” Scottie replied.
“I was just thinking that.”
“I was just thinking that.”
“Welcome to being psychic,” Emma said. “I hope you appreciate how annoying we’re not about it.”
“Finally, some intelligent conversation,” Irma replied.
“And some fashion sense.”
“Amen to that.”
“Alright, alright!” Scott said, holding his hands up. “There’ll be time enough for the mutual admiration society later, when our kids aren’t comatose. For now, I’d like to know how the hell we got here.”
“Seems obvious to me,” Scottie said. “One of your mutant’s powers interacted unexpectedly with Gateway’s, throwing you drastically off-course.”
“I suspected as much,” Scott said.
“I know you did.”
“Stop,” Emma and Irma said at the same time.
“Well, it isn’t as if we have Gateway here to teleport us again. How do we get home?” Emma asked, then looked at Irma somewhat expectantly.
Irma looked back at her. “That wasn’t what I was thinking,” she said simply.
“I know what you were thinking.”
Irma’s diamonds seemed to glow brighter.
“We should contact Captain Britain,” Scott broke in. “Transdimensional travel is his forte.”
“Captain Britain?” Scottie asked. “Who’s Captain Britain?”
Scott was caught short. “We may be here a while.”
There was a moment as they all considered this. Then Jean called from across the quad.
“Umm—some people really need to pee!”
“Dammit,” Scott barked. “I told them to go before we left!”
***
Chris still didn’t know where the hell they were, but wherever it was, it had one hell of a locker room. He and the rest of the boys dropped their clothes—victims of a dozen untrustworthy laundromats over the last few months, it was the rare white fabric that didn’t have something else tainting it—into the chute and went to their individual stalls. The water came down warm and clean and pressurized; it even tasted good. Chris sighed in approval, and heard similarly soothed moans coming from the other students. He made the shower last, using every lotion in the convenient basket by the soap dish, and felt shockingly human by the time he was done. He’d had no idea life on the road had him feeling so grungy until he was clean.
“All done in there?” someone called in the echoing room, and Chris realized everyone else was milking it as well, lingering in the enjoyable heat. But, this was still an alternate universe. You never knew when the zeppelin Nazis would show up.
“Come on, everyone out,” someone else said, shutting off his shower, and everyone grudgingly followed suit. Someone went by the stalls, handing clean, fluffy towels over to them. Chris scoured himself, then tied it around his waist, walking out of the communal shower to find there were folded piles of clean clothes waiting for all of them on the long bench by the lockers, their shoes waiting underneath. There were shirts with the circled X on the breast, khaki pants, even underwear and clean socks.
Chris spontaneously uttered an exuberant laugh as he pulled the clean shirt over his head, and was surprised to find an atmosphere of agreement in the air, thick enough to be heady. He didn’t know what this place was, but so far, it looked like he was going to like it here.
***
Nostalgia slammed into Scott as he entered what had, in his world, been Xavier’s office. It was so much the same. There were details differing, of course, being who he was he couldn’t help but notice them, but it all felt right. He hadn’t been ready for that.
Irma sat at the headmaster’s desk, Scott and Emma in the facing seats, Scott trying hard to remind himself he wasn’t a student being called up for a conference.
“You’ll excuse the rudeness,” Emma said, “but we’ve found that a lot of the parallel universes we come across are rather…”
“Evil,” Scott supplied.
“That’s a very judgmental way of putting it,” Emma continued. “But yes. Lots of scars. Lots of eyepatches. A disturbing quantity of Wolverines.”
“You don’t think this is something other than an accident? Part of some plot against you?”
“It’s kind of a tradition with us,” Scott said.
“Well, two out of three of us are psychics,” Irma said. “I see no reason we can’t settle this right now.”
“Anything you’re willing to open, I’m willing to enter,” Emma replied.
Scott grabbed her wrist. “You sure about this? If you go into battle and she overcomes you, she could make you say—“
“Scott, please.”
“Then again,” Irma put in. “If anyone could beat me, it’d be me.”
Scott nodded; that settled it. “I’m going with you.”
“If there is a battle in the mindscape…”
“It’d be what?” Scott asked. “Dangerous?”
Quietly, tentatively, Emma reached out with a thought to Scott. It felt like it’d been years since they’d communicated with anything other than words, cast to each other in any way that couldn’t be construed as simply thinking too loud. Who knew you cared whether I lived or died?
You know.
I’ve had my doubts.
“Trouble in paradise?” Irma asked, and Emma bit back a remark as she realized that Irma hadn’t eavesdropped, simply read their facial expressions.
“No trouble,” Scott assured her. He put his hand in Emma’s. “Let’s get the lay of the land.”
Emma bonded her mind to Scott. And gasped. It was bracing, suddenly becoming reacquainted, reorienting herself to his mind. He’d changed so much. So much more guilt, more frustration, more anger as he did everything he could as a leader and it wasn’t enough, as he did all he could to make the right choice out of no good choices and it just led to more hatred, more death, more mistrust—more disappointment. He thought everyone was disappointed in him. He thought she was disappointed in him.
No wonder you haven’t let me in, she thought.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
Just a little more emotional repression, love. I have to go know myself.
Right behind you.
Concentrating, girding her mental defenses, and tightening her grip on Scott’s hand, Emma entered Irma’s mind.
***
The atmosphere was almost post-coital afterward. Irma pulled a bottle of champagne from her desk and the three of them collapsed onto the sofas and couches and easy chairs of the suite’s study, passing the bottle between themselves. Scott was always amazed at how telepathy worked, the intimacy of it. Minutes passed like hours, smalltalk was replaced by almost unthinkable emotional intimacy; he felt as if he and Irma were lifelong friends, like Irma and Emma were sisters.
And then there was the relief. For once, it wasn’t out of the frying pan, into the fire. They weren’t in a death camp, or Murderworld, or Mojo’s dimension. This place was actually… safe. Well, as safe as a place could be in a universe with the Red Skull and Thanos and Kingpin, but—they were safe. The kids were safe. That was a victory.
The intensive experience was not without cost. Their bodies had overdosed on the endorphins and adrenaline of what normally would’ve been hours of emotional interplay, now concentrated into five minutes. Like a hard cry or a fit of ecstatic laughing, it wore them out, and it would take a little while to come down from the high of it and get their bearings. So they drank.
“They really don’t hate you here?” Emma asked. She had all the memories of it, but it still seemed impossible to believe.
“Why would they?” Irma asked. She struggled up from the couch, leaning on the arm now. “There are always people who have problems with superheroes, but—in your world, they’re fine with Iron Man and Captain America and Captain Marvel… why would they have a problem with you?”
“Thank you!” Scott almost moaned orgasmically. “Thank you!” He took a swig of wine to shut himself up.
“Well, you are welcome to stay here as long as you like,” Irma said. “We have plenty of room. And we’ll do everything we can to find you a way home.”
“Until then, we should think of the children,” Emma said.
“Won’t someone please think of the children!” Scott cried, almost hysterically. He quieted. “I think I’m drunk.” He drank some more, as if to make sure of it.
“They should continue their education, and the curriculum here seems much like the curriculum back there…”
“That would be good,” Scott agreed. “Stability. Something to take their minds off being separated from their friends and families.”
“I’ll go talk to Scottie about it,” Irma said, peeling herself off the couch and staggering up to her full height. “I can’t imagine she won’t go for it. Hope you don’t mind if I take the bottle with me…
“I actually bought this same bottle back on 616,” Emma said. “Can’t believe I got to enjoy it twice…”
They both watched Irma leave, both equally intent on her ass. Not all the diamonds in the world could conceal the curve of its cheeks.
“So is she actually wearing diamonds or is she partially shifted into her diamond form…?” Scott began.
“That’s what you’re wondering about?”
“Well, what are you wondering about?”
“This is a much more… open-minded Earth than we’re used to. You’ve noticed it. The costumes, some of the artwork…”
“You’re going to talk about costumes?” Scott asked.
“That’s a little much, even for me. But she does make it work…”
“What’s your point?”
“Just that we may not have all the facts yet. But until we do, we should play along. So whatever happens… if anyone happens… I won’t judge you for it. We’ll just be… playing the long game.”
“I’m not going running back to Jean.”
“Please. I’m not worried about that firecrotch. The only person who can steal my man is me.”
“And you want me to…?”
“Just keep your ears open. Play things as they come. I know it’s hard, dear, but try and read the room. It’s like you always say. The price of freedom…”
“Is always waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
***
“So?” Scottie asked, the moment Irma had shut the door behind him.
“Well, they are who they say they are.”
“Me as a boy… how internet.”
“And they have the strangest differences. You know that pretty much all of them have died? Just… every single one? And then, somehow, they keep coming back to life.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” Scottie mused. “Enough trivia. What about the mission?”
“Oh, they’ll do. They’ll do just fine.”
“They don’t suspect…?”
“Who do you think you’re talking to? No, I let that…” Irma smiled. “Gorgeous specimen feel out just about everything but that one little detail. She has no idea I’m even hiding something.”
“Good. Then they have no idea we brought them here. Let’s keep it that way, hmm?”
“Absolutely, love.” Irma held up the bottle. “Feel like celebrating?”
“Always. I love you, Frost.”
“Love you too, Summers.”
***
Chris couldn’t believe it. He really couldn’t believe it.
A whole different universe and he was late again.
Throwing on his clothes, he dashed out of the guest room he’d been put up in, now barely even noticing the opulence he’d so appreciated over the past day getting accommodated to the new surroundings. He ran out the door so fast that he almost collided with a young woman, did collide, in fact, but was shocked when he passed right through her. So shocked that he slipped and fell. As proven by his head, the floor was not so intangible.
“Oh crap!” the woman—Kitty Pryde, v2.0—said as she hastened to help him up. “That was all my fault, sorry, I should’ve known you would be in a rush. I’m…”
“Kitty Pryde,” Chris blurted out. He was too surprised by Kitty’s outfit to do much self-censoring.
What she wore was much like her costume back home. A black bodysuit with a yellow-gold strip down the middle and over her shoulder, matching gloves, X-belt, boots. Only here, the strip wasn’t yellow, but a kind of fishnet that let him see…
Well, that let him see. And he saw.
“Kat, actually. I’m not thirteen and a half anymore.”
“I can see that,” Chris gulped.
“Late for class, huh? And on your first day.”
Chris colored. And the original New Mutant was rubbing it in. Could this day get any worse?
Kat laughed. “Relax, new kid. I’m just jerking your chain. Frosty’s just holding some boring presentation this period, so if you like, I could give the nickel tour of the place. Since you slept through orientation. Or I could get you to class and tell them you’re late because you were helping me out with—“ She rolled her eyes in thought. “Defeating the Brood. Whatever. So what’s it going to be? Class or me?”
Comments
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A tour would have been cool, but the class is more important right now.
Break me off a piece of that Kit-Kat broad.
BillyBatson
Tour!
Kat tour
Wingbat
I vote for the tour as well.
Shendude
I second.
Argenten
I vote Kat and getting the tour.
