Drops of Crimson: Searching

[ladydeathfaerie]

Title: Drops of Crimson: Searching

Chapter Eight: Landmines
Fandoms: a mash up of the Mutant Sues, the movie Sues, the Supervillainesses, and probably anyone else i can think of tossing in for good measure
Characters: various from the different universes
Rating: going with a pretty strong NC-17 here. seriously.
Warning: violence, sex, language, possibly other things. we'll know when we get there
Disclaimer: i do not own anyone from the Marvel universe. nor do i own anyone from other universe. Dare is mine, but you don't want her. honestly. girl's a mess. oh, Mystery is mine, too. you don't want her, either. she's moody. Rose and Roxxy belong to nanaeanaven i swear i'm not making any money from this. i just do what the sick voices inside my head tell me to. i write purely for my enjoyment. and possibly the comments. please don't sue, harass, or bother me. i have no money to pay you, but i do have a really nasty temper. and i know some good cuss words.

Author's Note: so, its like this. Drops of Crimson: Hunted was only supposed to be a one shot type thing. but i started writing and the bunnies kept twitching their noses and suddenly i was staring down the snout of a plot dragon. and... welp! here we are! is anyone really surprised by this? nobody? didn't think so. hopefully this won't be super long. you know. by my standards...

Summary: "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, I'm sorry!" "

Drops of Crimson - The Index


"Remy, my love. What's happened? You look terrible." Her voice was soft and gentle as she swept into the room. The look on her face was filled with concern. One hand reached for one of the raw, red patches marring his skin, but he slapped it away before she could touch it. The action saw her regarding him with confusion. "Remy? What is it?"

"Dat bitch!" he snarled. It wasn't the answer she sought, but it was the only one he could get out right at the moment. The red patches had gotten worse in the short amount of time it had taken him to return to their lair from the hotel he'd gone to. His skin burned and tingled, making him want to scrub at it in an effort to relieve some of the pain.

"Who, Remy? Who did this to you?" she asked, one of her hands finding an expanse of skin that wasn't bright and painfully red. She stroked her fingers against it, the touch bringing some calm and peace. He wanted to pull away, wanted to cling to his anger and the chaos it brought. He wanted to use the rage that he felt to rant and rave. He couldn't do that with the gentleness of her touch stroking right down to his damned soul.

"Some woman," he replied, fighting the calm her touch brought. He wasn't ready to give his anger up. He wanted to use it to fuel some destruction. "She wit' Dare tonight. She do somet'ing. I don' see what it was. But she do somet'ing. And now I got dese t'ings. I want her dead. She try to stop me from grabbing Dare."

"These look like burns, my love. Did she try to throw fire on you?" she asked, letting her gaze slide over each visible mark one by one.

"Non. She wave her hands and suddenly, dere garlic everywhere. Den it explode in my face. It leave me wit' dese burns," Remy spat. "One minute, dere not'ing dere. De next, de garlic grow up out of nowhere."

She stared at him a moment, her look almost calculating. Then the look was gone and the concern was back. She stepped forward and slid an arm around his back, carefully pulled him into her so she could give him a hug. "You need to shower, my love. Wash the garlic off your skin. Then we'll find you a donor so that you can heal the damage this woman did to you."

"I almost have Dare tonight. She almost mine." He frowned and shook his head. "She get lucky. But she not always gon' have people to look out for her. She gon' slip up. She gon' be alone. She gon' let down her guard. And den I gon' make her pay for dis!" He motioned to himself with the last of his statement. Dare was going to pay for denying him. She was going to suffer a pain comparable to the one he'd felt. Maybe he'd make her watch him kill Barton before he turned her. Force her to live with that memory for the rest of her days. Or maybe he'd make her kill Barton. After being forced to kill Logan, another death at her hands would break her spirit.

"You'll get her, my beloved. I know you will. She cannot deny your charms for long. You still hold some part of her heart. You must simply work that to your advantage. Which we both know you can do," she said. She put a hand against the small of his back and gently urged him toward the suite's bathroom. "But you cannot do that tonight. They'll be vigilant tonight. And you need to shower the garlic off of your skin before it does more damage. Tomorrow night is soon enough to find a way to bring the stubborn girl to your side. Go clean up. I'll wait here for you."

The throaty purr she put into her words told him why she'd be waiting for him. That thought made his temper spike even higher. Perhaps any other time, he'd take her up on her unspoken offer of mind-blowing sex. But he was too incensed with Dare. Too mad at her continued denial and betrayal. She chose that idiot Barton over him every damn time he saw her. She denied her feelings for him, as if she was better than him now since he was undead and she wasn't. She thwarted him at every turn and he was tired of it. Which left him unmoved by the implications in his maker's words.

The only person he wanted to stick his dick into right at the moment was sleeping in someone else's arms and probably gloating over how she kept turning him aside at every opportunity. It frustrated and infuriated him to no end. He didn't understand what Dare saw in Barton. Especially when she knew what she was getting with him. After all, they'd been an item and he knew damn well that she'd been more than satisfied with him. So what did Barton have that he didn't? Besides a pulse, obviously.

Temper flaring, skin burning and painful, he pulled himself away from the woman at his side and stalked into the bathroom. She was right. He needed to wash the garlic from his skin before it did any more damage. Already the burn was becoming close to unbearable. He was afraid of what would happen if he left it any longer. Would it do permanent damage?

His clothes, absolutely stinking of garlic, were left to lay haphazardly upon the floor where they dropped as he stripped himself down. It took a twist or two of his hand to see the water cascading from the shower head and he stepped beneath it, heedless of what temperature it might be.

The sharp spray stung the garlic burns when it hit them, bringing forth a new round of muttered curses. But the pain faded quickly and gave him the opportunity to once more let his thoughts focus on the events of the evening.

He'd been certain that he'd snared Dare. He'd managed to catch her mind with some rather hot images that should have turned her to putty in his hands. Hell, it had. She'd almost been there. He'd seen it in her face, in how she'd lost the anger and the hardness that she carried constantly as her shield. He'd smelled it in the lust that had poured from her, like water rushing from a faucet into a glass. She'd been well within his grasp.

And then it had all gone to hell. That damned woman had moved and thrown her arm out. And then there had been garlic all over the place. Far too close for his comfort. He'd been on the verge of moving back when the damned bulbs had exploded like living, organic landmines and he'd been doused with garlic pulp. And he'd lost Dare.

He hadn't realized that there were other vampires in the room until he'd stepped through the door. Which he didn't like. It shouldn't have been. He should have sensed their power. But something had kept them hidden from him. So it had been a surprise to find Dare with other undead. He might have risked her flames and the burning pain of the garlic for the opportunity to snatch her away from Barton right before his eyes. But one of those other vampires had shot forward and collected her. And had stolen the opportunity away from him.

Remy muttered more curses as his anger soared. It was bad enough that Dare kept taunting him with the fires. It was bad enough that he knew that she'd given Barton her heart. He could practically smell the love that she had for him on her skin. It was bad enough that she'd managed to keep distance between them this long. But to have another vampire pluck her from his grasp was more than he could stand.

Because he knew, without having to think about it, that the other vamps that had been there earlier had been some of the goodie goodie undead who wanted his kind exterminated. As if that would happen. He was going to ensure that no one could exterminate him. Not him and not the vampires he surrounded himself with. That was why Dare was so important. She was his protection from the rest of the world until he could destroy anyone who opposed him. She was his ticket to world domination. He would turn her and she would burn anyone and anything that got in her way. She was going to put the world into the palm of his hand. And woe be to anyone who dared cross him.

The soap was harsh against his skin as he scrubbed at it. He'd scooped it up as he considered just how he was going to use Dare, had started trying to wash the garlic away so that the burning would stop. But the suds lingered on the red patches and made them burn all over again. Still, that was better than the burn of Dare's flames. He knew that they were a pain he'd only feel once. And he knew that he didn't want to face them, because there was no way he could win against her fire. The temporary burn of a little soap was far better than the permanence of death that would come with Dare's fire.

It didn't take long to clean the remnants of the evening from his skin. When he was done, he turned his attention to his hair. And tried to ignore the throb of his dick. It was eager to sink into Dare again, eager to taste her passions and to fill her needs. He considered dropping his hands to his groin and jerking himself off. For a moment or two. But he put the thought aside and tried his best to ignore the demands of his body. His hand wasn't what he wanted or what he needed.

Soon enough, the shower was over and his erection had flagged to somewhere just south of half mast. He turned the water off and stepped from the shower, one hand reaching absently for the plush towel hanging near the shower. It came away with pink stains when he rubbed the water from his flesh. A mild burn kicked up where the red patches lived, but they were much less annoying and painful than they had been earlier. Some blood and a good night's sleep would see them healed up.

He hoped.

After drying himself off, he dropped the towel onto the pile of his clothes and left it there. He stalked from the bathroom into the bedroom in search of clean clothes. A worn pair of jeans and an old t-shirt were the order of the evening. He shrugged them on before heading for the door to go in search of someone. A whisper of a mental touch saw his feet turning up the hall to his right and heading for her door. It seemed she was awaiting him there.

He found her door open, a silent invitation for him to join her inside. He stepped in and pushed the door closed. She'd mentioned something about finding him someone to feed on. Given his mood and the still lingering semi-erect state of his cock, he knew that he was going to need to fuck someone when he was done feeding to burn off the excess energy.

She was waiting for him in the living area of her suite. She was clad in a sheer robe that served to accentuate her pale skin and did little to hide her feminine charms. She was smiling at him, her hand curled around the arm of a young boy standing beside her. The boy was afraid, eyes wide and body awash in fear scent. It was a potent aphrodisiac. He let his gaze touch the boy's, let the kid see his intent in his eyes. Watched as fear filled them And stopped short when he realized he'd seen those grey eyes before. In another face. He turned a curious look toward her.

"I present to you your meal," she said with wicked glee in her voice. "I believe you may know our guest, Remy. This is Tristan Scott, Dare's younger brother." The introduction was needless. He'd have known those eyes anywhere. And there were hints of Dare in the boy's face. He looked very much like his sister.

"Doesn't he look tasty?" Morgan asked, inching up behind him until her chest was pressed against his back. Her hands slid around his waist so that she could tease the muscles of his stomach with her questing fingers. "I could just eat him up."

"Dis you idea, petite?" Remy asked, looking down at Morgan. She offered him a smile that answered his question for him. What game was she playing now?

"Morgan felt it would help wear Dare down if her family fell victim to the vampires. You know. Break her spirit," she said, one hand stroking lightly up and down Tristan's arm. He tensed and tried to pull away, only to have his arm seized tightly in one of her hands. The boy cried out, and a row of books on a shelf behind her flew off it. They slammed into her back, but she didn't loosen her hold on Dare's brother. "Your parlor tricks won't help you here, boy. I was going to tell Remy to make it easy for you. But after that little stunt.."

She shoved Tristan toward Remy, her vampiric strength staggering the boy and knocking him off his feet. He fell in a graceless heap at Remy's feet, sniffling softly as the reality of his situation sank in. Morgan tittered out a laugh at the boy's misfortune. Remy ignored her, all of his attention focused on the boy. He leaned down, curling one hand around Tristan's arm, and pulled the boy to his feet. Wide grey eyes filled with fear stared at him out of a face gone ghostly white.

Remy had no intention of doing any more harm to the boy than necessary. Hurting Dare's family was not the way to bring her to his side, no matter what her relationship with them. He knew that and Morgan should, too. Actually, it was likely she did but she just didn't care. The change had done something to her, altered her brain chemistry or something. Or perhaps it had been the loss of Faye that had sent her plummeting into madness. He didn't know. It wasn't important. What was important was ensuring that he didn't bring any unnecessary harm to Dare's brother.

If he did, they'd never see her again. She'd burn the entire city to the ground to end their lives.

The fear in Tristan's eyes called to him. He wished he could tell the boy that he wasn't going to hurt him. But they were watching him. Listening to him. And telepathy wasn't one of his gifts. He was going to have to try and convey his intent through his actions. Remy soothed the boy's hair back, taking a moment to marvel at how much he looked like his sister. How much his fear was like hers. Then he bent down and sank his fangs into the boy's neck.

Tristan cried out and tried to fight, tried to push him away. Remy only clung to him tighter, drew more sharply on the vein at the boy's neck. Tristan whimpered and cried. Something thumped against Remy's back, but it did little to deter him.

Because he relished the terror. It was succulent and sweet, like a ripe berry or melon that burst with flavor upon the tongue. He fed upon that almost as much as he fed upon the blood. He could dine on that exquisite flavor for the rest of his days. There was nothing quite like it in the world. Nothing at all.

He drew on the boy's life blood until his heart started to slow. Until the fight in him started to die out. When the boy started going limp in his hold, he set him back and took a moment to stare at the paleness of his face. The sadness and fear in his eyes. And the faint hint of arousal that accompanied it all. He studied it and imagined Dare's face in place of her brother's. She would look beautiful wearing that same expression. She would be a work of art when he had his way with her. And then he'd turn her, make her into exactly what he needed her to be.

After that, he'd fuck her until she forgot all about Barton.

"Why have you not finished him, my love?" she asked, her confusion plain to see on her face. "He was yours to consume. And yet you've left him alive. Why?"

"Dare not gon' come to me if I kill her brother," he told her, one hand still holding on to the boy to keep him on his feet. Tristan was weak but he'd survive with some rest. "I kill her brother, she gon' burn de entire city to get to me."

"You have to put the fear of us into that arrogant bitch!" Morgan snapped, temper suddenly flaring. "She'll never be one of us if we don't break her spirit."

"Killin' her brother not the way to do it, Morgan," Remy insisted. "We kill Tristan, she burn de entire city. She leave not'ing but ash."

"I'm not afraid of her, Remy! Her fire won't hurt me!" Morgan snarled. He wanted to remind her that without Faye, she couldn't be sure of that. But he didn't get the chance. Morgan crossed the distance between them in the blink of an eye and wrenched Tristan's arm from his grasp. Her mouth opened to expose her fangs, to expose her intent. Tristan saw it and the terror blossomed again, perfumed the room with its heady fragrance, as Tristan screamed and struggled to tear free of her hold.

Morgan fell on the boy, her fangs ripping into his tender throat with deadly rage. A moment later, the screaming stopped. Remy watched as Morgan drained what was left of Tristan's life blood and he couldn't help but think that she'd just sealed her fate.

~*~*~*~*~

"Don't go to sleep on me now, darlin'. We're not done yet. Not by a long shot." His hand curled around her shoulder and rolled her onto her back, dragging her from the grips of sleep. She muttered a curse and opened her eyes, ready to give him a ration of shit. But the look in those baby blues stopped the words before they passed her lips. And the smile he gave her was soft. A tender one that was reserved for the privacy of their bedroom. "Damn, yer beautiful."

"I am not, Logan," she protested, feeling a hint of blush trying to creep into her cheeks. It always did when he talked to her like that. She wanted to fall into anger to push the embarrassment aside, but the look on his face wouldn't let her.

"Of course you are, darlin'," he returned. "You sayin' I'm a liar?"

"I'm saying you're an old man and need your eyes checked," she replied snarkily. The eyes in question slid from her face to her shoulders, then made their way down the length of her body. They climbed back up slowly and he let her see the heat that had filled them at the sight of her.

"You know my eyes are just fine, girl. Healing factor sees to that," he retorted, his fingers plucking sharply at her nipples in retaliation for calling him an old man. Something panged inside at that, but she couldn't be sure what it was. So she shoved it aside and focused her attention on him.

Logan was naked, chest still glistening with sweat from their previous love play. His hair lay flat against his head and the smell of sex and sweat clung to him. She let her eyes wander and take in every last inch of him. His build and his strength never ceased to amaze her. Nor did the tenderness that he used when he touched her with hands she knew were almost better suited to violence and bloodshed. It still boggled her mind that he was hers.

"Logan right, petit. You beautiful." That voice washed over her like honeyed bourbon, leaving her feeling slighly drunk on the pleasure it brought with it. A moment later, a hand with thinner, longer fingers was stroking across her cheek. A touch of heat tingled under her skin with the caress as Remy's charm washed over her. It made her more willing to acquiesce to Logan's statement. To the demand in his hands and his voice. In Remy's eyes and his touch.

For a moment, she wondered at Remy's presence in their bed. Shouldn't he be with Morgan? Why was he with them? He was still mad at her for dumping him the way she had, wasn't he? But all her questions slid away when Remy's lips locked onto one of her nipples and sucked at it greedily. Hunger and desire, strong and heady and demanding, washed through her and left her shifting restlessly against the sheets as thick, cloying need pooled between her thighs. She gasped softly, trying to find the words that would accurately verbalize her needs. But Logan's mouth was there to claim hers, to press his tongue between her lips and tease her into silence. The fingers of one hand threaded into Logan's hair and clutched at it tightly. The other hand found Remy's hair and curled into the silken length so that she held him to her breast.

Hands stroked down her torso, feathering across her ribs to tease her belly button for such a long time that she lost the ability to think and breathe. It was only when she gasped against Logan's mouth that he drew back and allowed her to pull air into her lungs. Then his lips were back, claiming her own hungrily once again. Fire burned under her skin, consuming every single one of her thoughts and leaving them in ashes. All that remained was a growing need that threatened to swallow her whole when she gave in to it. Some part of her brain tried to tell her that doing so would be bad. But she didn't care, only wanted the promise of pleasure and completion that she felt in their hands. On their lips.

When Logan kissed her like he was, when he touched her the way he was, she actually did feel beautiful. Add Remy's almost possessive touch to the mix and she felt like she was the most beautiful person in the world. Her head whirled with her raging desire and the musky scents of both men and the barely there burn of Remy's charm as it seeped into her brain.

Wait. That was wrong. Wasn't it? Remy didn't use his charm so heavily. He'd never used it on her that she knew of. So why was he using it now? Her fingers curled tighter into his hair, intent on pulling his head from her breast so she could ask him. But fingers slid deep inside of her and drove away the doubts and the questions, leaving her capable of nothing more than writhing on the bed, gasping for breath and hungry for more of them.

Two sets of fingers probed deep inside of her, stroking the hunger that simmered in her belly so that it burned high and bright. So that it consumed every last inch of her until she lay pliant and panting on the mattress. Until she could only whimper in need and frustration. She wanted more. She wanted more of them both. And she couldn't properly vocalize that need. When the fingers teasing her slippery core dipped deeper, she lifted her hips up in a silent plea for more. The hands drew back in response, leaving her empty and hungry for more.

"Please," she whispered when Logan lifted his head. He stared down at her, eyes practically glowing with his own passion. He offered her a smile that sent shudders down her spine. That planted a small kernel of fear in her belly. But before she could examine that, a pair of slick fingers pressed past the tight ring of muscles hidden between her ass cheeks. She cried out, hips shifting in surprise and need. The other set of fingers found their way back between her thighs and pressed as far into her as was possible. She cried out as heat seared her and orgasm swallowed her whole without warning.

They stroked in and out, moving against one another. Soon, both of them had three fingers inside of her. She felt muscles stretching against the invasion, the sensations almost too painful to bear. She moaned, started to beg for them to stop. But a mouth that tasted of bourbon and something sharp and metallic was on hers, kissing all thought from her head.

They pressed harder. Deeper. Filled her with more fingers until it felt like she would split in two. She could feel hot tears against her cheeks, but they did nothing to stop the press of fingers and hands. Nor did the do anything to quell the need that ate at and consumed every part of her. And her body, despite the pain that flared through it, gave way to their questing digits, to their pressing hands, and begged silently for more.

Pain lanced her as the bony ridge of someone's knuckles pushed past her flesh so that a fist was sliding up inside of her. And then it came again when the other hand did the same. She cried out. In pain. In pleasure. In orgasm. All of those things rolled through her at once, accompanied by the press of Remy's charm and a faint, slow burn that wanted to be set free to run rampant in her blood.

The hands moved in tandem. They moved out of sync with one another. They moved and it felt like they were pressing deeper and deeper until they were touching her very soul. One orgasm tore through her, then rippled into another and another. She could barely catch her breath between them and her lungs strained to keep her conscious. She tried to plead for an end, but the words were stuck in her throat. And then those fists shoved deep and the pain that speared into her nearly shredded her. She cried out, screamed, came. And, despite it all, her body wanted more.

"Please," she croaked. She couldn't be sure what she was begging for. It didn't matter. The hands withdrew from her body and left her feeling like she was gaping wide open. In more ways than one. Remy's hands were there to help roll her so that she was laid out on top of Logan's heavy frame, her back pressed against his chest. Logan's hands reached up to glide over her belly. They found her breasts and cupped them. Pinpricks of pleasure started where his fingers touched and branched out into her body until the hunger and the need were once more burning deep inside of her.

Remy's hands were there to shift her hips, to lift them up so that he could take hold of Logan's cock. She could see his arm move slowly as he stroked the length of the dick he held. Logan grunted softly beneath her, then his hands were there to hold her hips in just the right spot. She felt the head of Logan's cock against her ass. She gathered her thoughts long enough to try and pull away, but Logan's hands pressed her down until the head of his erection slipped into her ass. Despite the fist that had loosened her muscles up, it was still a shock and pain slid through her as he filled her to the brim. He brought his legs up between hers, used them to spread her thighs wide. Made it impossible for her to move away. Made a target of her dripping pussy. Then Remy was climbing between her thighs, his cock sliding into that begging target with a single thrust.

The burn was back and it ate away at the pain that held her, so that her hips rocked of their own accord. She needed more, and her hips were begging silently for what they wanted. Remy smiled, leaned down to take a nipple between his lips. There was a sting of teeth, then the sting was gone on a sudden tidal wave of pleasure that roared through her. She came hard, body squeezing down around both dicks inside of her. Logan groaned and bucked his hips, thrusting his cock so deep that she felt like she was impaled by it.

Logan held himself still while Remy thrust himself into her. The friction was sweet. Painful. Tight from being penetrated by both men. "Come on, Dare. Let youself go. Give youself to us," Remy coaxed, his hips shifting minutely so that there was just a little bit of that lovely friction.

"More, Remy," she gasped. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to let go. She was already pretty far gone. All she could think about was the feel of them moving inside of her. That slow burn. The next orgasm. Their orgasms. She wanted to feel them fill her up with their come. She wanted them to fill her so full that she sloshed. She wanted them to do this to her all the time. She wanted...

The thought died when a small part of her brain broke free of the pleasure-induced trance and told her that she didn't want any of those things. That it was the lust that Remy had charmed into her that wanted those things. She didn't want them. She didn't need them. She didn't need Remy or Logan because she had---

Both men slammed into her at the same time, driving themselves as deep as they could get. It felt like they were buried up to her throat. Her abused muscles burned with pain and something else. Tears pricked her eyes again. She planted her hands against Remy's chest and pushed. "Get off me," she whispered, thought returning as the pain began to recede.

"You mine, Dare," Remy practically hissed. His hips slammed against hers again. A moment later, Logan's did the same. It felt like something inside tore because the pain was the worst thing she'd ever felt. And there was something thick and wet against her thighs. "You mine an' I not gon' let you go."

His hips slammed down again. The pain returned. The burn came with it. She made a fist and smashed it against his chin in an effort to get him off of her. Logan's hands were there to cage her wrists, to pull them down to the mattress and hold them there. His grip was tight, almost bruising. So unlike any of the times he'd ever held her still before. "Get off of me! Both of you!" she snarled, lifting her head in an attempt to smash it against Remy's. But he reared back, mouth dropping open in a hiss that showed the pointed length of his canines.

At the same moment, she felt the press of another set of fangs against her shoulder. "No!"

The flames came at her call, heating her skin so that it sizzled and burned the flesh they had pressed against her. Remy threw himself off of her, red splotches marring the pale perfection of his flesh, but Logan refused to let her go. His hips churned against hers, a rumble too much like a growl sounding in her ear as she struggled to get free of his hold. Short of setting him on fire, she didn't think she was going to succeed. But she couldn't. Not again.

"Always wanted to fuck ya while you were on fire, girl," he growled in her ear. "Gonna fuck ya until you scream and bleed. Then I'm gonna turn ya."

"NO!" she roared. And so did the flames.

~*~*~*~*~

It was Dare's restless shifting that woke him, pulling him from a deep sleep with a start. Clint sat up, one hand reaching out to flip on the bedside lamp. For a moment, he was confused as to what had drawn him away from a fully restful sleep. Then he heard the whimper and turned to look at the woman beside him. Dare was tangled in the sheets, sweat gleaming against her pale skin. It was obvious she was caught up in some kind of dream, eyes moving behind her lids rapidly. He could swear that there was fear on his face. Her body jerked, then went still. A moment later, she was moving restlessly again.

"Dare?" he asked softly, trying to catch her attention without scaring her. Scaring her was a bad idea at any time, because she tended to use the flames like armor, but it was especially bad to scare her when she was sleeping.

The dream must have been deep, because she didn't respond. She shifted against the bedding, then moaned in a way that sounded almost like it was more carnal in nature than frightened. Clint might have let it go, but it didn't explain the faint mask of fear on her face. Nor did it explain the way she shifted against the bed and the soft sounds of pain she made. The pleading. "No!" she shouted, the restless movements becoming something more akin to struggling against the weight of the sheets.

"Dare? Baby?" he asked again, one hand reaching out to try and shake her shoulder. He didn't touch her though, left that hand hovering in the air while he watched her struggle against whatever was happening in her dream.

The struggle shifted. Oh, she didn't stop moving. But he could sense the change in her. Her face had paled and her breath came in ragged gasps. Clint thought she might be afraid. The dream was turning into a nightmare. There was nothing for it but to wake her. Before things got out of hand. "Come on, Dare. Wake up, baby."

"NO!" she bellowed, her voice hard with fear and intent. Clint dropped his hand to her arm to try and shake her out of it. And pulled it back a moment later, his hand bright red and already blistering. The stench of burnt flesh hung thickly in the air.

"Fuck!" It was his voice, the volume of it, that seemed to shake her out of her slumber. Dare came awake with a jerk, her torso coming up off the bed as she took a sitting position. Her eyes were wide as she let them shift around the room. Then they landed on him and he saw them go to his blistered hand. They widened even further, if such a thing was possible.

"Did I do that?" she asked, a different kind of fear in her voice. He opened his mouth to respond, but she didn't let him. She threw the covers back and scrambled from the bed in a rush. Her eyes were so wide he saw a lot of white and her skin had gone terribly pale. He'd never seen her so pale before. Every inch of her trembled. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, I'm sorry!" she wailed before dashing into the bathroom. Clint was halfway across the room when he heard the lock click.

"It was an accident, baby. Come out here." Clint rattled the knob with his good hand.

"No. I hurt you." He could hear the sob in her words despite the fact that they were muffled. More than likely she had her face buried in her hands.

"Dare, it was an accident. Come out here and tell me what had you so scared." He hoped there was enough of a coaxing tone to his voice. He didn't like the idea of her sitting in the bathroom, chastising herself for an involuntary reaction. Obviously, whatever she'd dreamed of had left her feeling threatened. She'd protected herself the only way she was capable of. "Come on, baby. Come out."

"Clint? Is everything okay?" Tony's voice asked through the door.

"Its fine, Tony," he replied. Letting Tony in would only make matters worse. He prayed the other man would simply turn around and walk away from the door. He held his breath through several moments of silence. Maybe he'd get lucky and Tony would continue on his way. Maybe the other man would go pester Rose and leave Clint alone to try and talk Dare out of the bathroom.

He heard the knob rattle as Tony put his hand on it.

Clint sighed and hung his head. It was too much to hope that maybe Tony wouldn't stick his nose into Clint's business. Maybe pigs would fly out of his butt, too.

The door swung open to show him both Tony and Rose's curious faces. He didn't have time to consider what it might mean that the two of them were outside his door together, because Rose's nose wrinkled and she frowned. "Why does it smell like burnt meat in here?" she asked.

The question prompted a loud wail from the bathroom. Tony's eyes cut that way while Rose kept her attention on Clint. And she noticed the way he was not so subtly cradling his hand. It didn't take her long to put two and two together. Before Tony could even consider why Dare was crying behind the bathroom door, Rose was at Clint's side. She took hold of his wrist and brought his hand up so she could look at it. "Clint, what happened?"

This question brought Tony's attention back to him and he watched as the other man's gaze narrowed on his hand consideringly. "She was having a nightmare," he explained quietly. Maybe, if he didn't get all upset and hysterical about it, Dare would realize he didn't blame her and she'd come out of the bathroom. Clint shrugged around Rose's hold on him. "I had to wake her up. It was an involuntary reaction."

He didn't want either of them blaming Dare for what had happened. It absolutely wasn't her fault. Tony considered that a moment, then crossed the room to Clint's side. "How bad is it?" he asked, though Clint wasn't sure if the question was for him or Rose.

"I don't think it'll be too bad, so long as we treat it right now," Rose said, obviously deciding the question was meant for her. "I have some ointment in my rooms that should do nicely. His hand should be cleaned first, though."

"I have what we need in the infirmary downstairs. I'll take Clint down while you go get what you need."

"What about Dare?" Clint asked, not at all happy that they were making arrangements for him without his consent.

"We'll send Mystery up to look after her," Rose assured him. He took it to be a good thing that she didn't sound like she blamed Dare. But he wouldn't rest easy until he could talk to her about what had happened. He wanted to be sure, whatever she'd been dreaming of, she was okay.

"Come on, Clint," Tony took his arm and tugged him toward the door. Clint shot a look at the bathroom door in the hopes that it would open and Dare would come out. But that didn't happen. The panel remained stubbornly closed. Heaving a sigh, Clint allowed Tony to drag him out of the room and up the hall toward the staircase. Rose followed after them, only to turn and go in the opposite direction.

It was fortunate Tony didn't say anything to him because Clint wasn't in the mood to make small talk. His mind couldn't let go of the idea that Dare's nightmare hadn't started out as such. And he couldn't let go of the idea that she'd never tell him what she dreamed, no matter how many times he asked her to.

~*~*~*~*~

"There is something outside the western border, sire." The report came from a soldier who looked like he had seen some kind of ghost. His intrusion was a welcome one, as tempers were starting to flare and little movement forward was being made in the discussion on how best to deal with the infected. T'Challa looked from the man's face to Okoye, standing at his side. She lifted a brow at him in response before touching one of the kimoyo beads at her wrist.

An image sprang to life in mid air, only mildly distorted by the technology used to project it. It was plain to see a large bird lingering in the air just beyond the protective field that remained around Wakanda at all times. The bird's plumage was brown and gold and black, though the markings didn't seem to fit any bird he'd ever seen before. There was also the fact that the bird was as large as one of his country's smallest ships. He was impressed by the bird's sheer size and the elegant way is hovered in the air only feet from a barrier that he knew it could not see.

"Does anyone know what kind of bird this is?" he asked, voice carrying around the meeting room. Every eye turned to the projection to study the bird. His gaze traveled around the table slowly, gauging the look he saw on every face. No one seemed to know what kind of bird it was.

A chair scraped back, drawing his attention to the far end of the table. Dr. McCoy was already moving on quiet feet toward Okoye, intent on getting a better view of bird in question. As he neared, the expression on his face suggested he might have an idea. "Henry?" he asked, leaving the rest of his question to hang unspoken between them.

"Just as Wakanda has its myths and legends, the Indigenous peoples of America have their myths and legends. Several of the native peoples believe in a spirit they call Thunderbird." Though Henry's words were spoken almost absently, T'Challa knew the man well enough to know that he had good reason for saying them.

"And you believe this bird is Thunderbird?" T'Challa questioned. It would make sense that such a large creature was a myth or legend come to life. No bird on the planet was quite so big as this one. But he had to wonder why it was waiting so patiently outside of Wakanda's border.

"Actually, I believe this bird is one of the X-Men," Henry replied, voice distant and thoughtful as he continued to study the bird in question.

"I did not think any of the X-Men had such mutations," Shuri said, coming to stand beside her brother. A glance at her told T'Challa that she was studying the bird with all the curiosity she had. It wasn't every day that one saw a bird the size of a plane.

"None that I know of did," Henry confirmed. If he was disconcerted by Shuri's knowledge of the X-Men's abilities, it didn't show on his face or in his voice. "But times have changed."

"That is your reason for believing this is an X-Man?" T'Challa asked, a touch of amusement coloring his voice.

"No," Henry shook his head, then motioned toward the bird's face with one hand. "I recognize those eyes. At least, I recognize the color. Ororo, would you come here, please?"

The woman in question rose from her seat at the table and moved with lithe grace to stand beside Dr. McCoy. T'Challa watched as she studied the image before her. Henry made no move to rush her, allowing her time to study the bird at length. Finally, an incredulous look crept across her face. She turned to stare at Henry. "Surely you don't think its her?" she asked. If he wasn't mistaken, there was a touch of hope in her voice.

"I do. I have never seen a bird with eyes that particular shade of gold before. A cat, yes. And a human. But never a bird," Henry said, the tone of his voice suggesting he was thinking deeply on the subject.

"She's never been able to change into anything other than a mountain lion, Henry. And we don't even know if she is still alive. No one has seen her since the school was overrun," Ororo whispered. T'Challa could definitely hear the faint traces of hope in her voice, though. She wanted to believe that Dr. McCoy was right.

"It is her, Ororo. I know it," Dr. McCoy said. The firmness of his voice spoke to his belief. She studied his face a moment or two longer, then turned back to the image before her. After another moment or two, she nodded her head as she made a decision.

"Then I am going to her," Ororo replied before hurrying from the room. In moments, Shuri had another projection brought up. This one followed Ororo as she nearly ran through the halls toward the exit. Heads turned to follow the woman's progress toward the doors. No one attempted to stop her. The moment she was outside of the palace, she took to the air and headed for the border.

It didn't take long for Ororo to reach the border barrier. She flew with the speed and grace of a bird of prey, long white hair streaming out behind her like a banner. When she reached her destination, she hovered in air, level with the giant bird's face. She remained like that for several long moments, then she finally turned back to face the direction she'd come. "Let her in, T'Challa."

T'Challa gave a nod to Shuri, who tapped a bead on her wrist. A window opened in the barrier and the big bird slipped through it quietly and with ease. They watched as it glided toward the ground, wings outspread to cut through the air. Ororo descended after the bird, touching ground only a moment before the bird's taloned feet. A moment later, the bird was gone and a young woman stood in its place. She staggered a bit, prompting Ororo to wrap an arm around her shoulder in order to steady her.

"Send someone to bring them back to the palace," T'Challa said without making it an order. Okoye gave an incline of her head, then turned to one of the Dora Milaje lining the walls of the room. A hand motion sent the chosen warrior hurrying from the room. Silence held as they watched the projected image of the two women making their way toward the palace over the broad expanse of open field at a slow, steady pace.

It took several minutes before Ororo and her companion were bustled into a conveyance and brought up to the palace. A few minutes more before the woman was allowed into the meeting room with everyone else. She was only let past the doors when Shuri assured them that there was no sign of infection in her blood. And the moment she made it into the room, she was enveloped in a crushing hug delivered by the normally stoic Henry McCoy.

~*~*~*~*~

"Rosemary. We thought you were dead," Henry whispered into her ear. Ororo heard him anyway, as she hovered just behind Roxxy's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Henry. I wish I'd been able to tell you I was alive, but I had other problems to deal with," Roxxy replied. Her voice was thick, likely with unshed tears, and she clung tightly to Henry. As if she didn't plan on ever letting him go.

"Come. Sit and tell us everything," Henry urged, gently prying Roxxy from his hold so he could steer her toward one of the empty chairs around the table. Roxxy allowed him to do so, her gaze sliding around the room as she followed along with him. He urged her down into his vacated seat when they reached the table, then he was reaching out to pour her a glass of water.

"I would like to hear how you found the border of Wakanda when it is so well hidden from the outside world," T'Challa added, making sure Roxxy knew that he wouldn't let the issue go. Roxxy took a drink of water before shifting her attention to the ruler of Wakanda.

"I'm a clairvoyant," Roxxy began. Her hands tightened around the glass, a faint sign of distress, and Ororo had to wonder what she was afraid of. "The visions showed me where to go. Plus, things are different when I'm wearing the wings. Almost like I have an autopilot of something. As soon as I took to the air, I just automatically headed in this direction."

"Why are you here? Wakanda has been isolated from the outside world since the infection started," Okoye asked. Though, with the edge in her voice, it was more a demand than a question.

"I came to let you know that the world is facing a much greater danger than the rise of these new vampires," Roxxy said. This time, there was no sign of her discomfort. In fact, her tone was as firm as Ororo had ever heard it get.

"What danger do we face now, Roxxy?" she asked the other woman.

"Remy," Roxxy said softly. There was so much certainty in her voice that it took them several moments to collect their thoughts.

It was not the response Ororo had been expecting. And she might have made light of it, but the gravity in Roxxy's voice, in the look she turned their way, stayed the words before Ororo could speak them. "Gambit?" Henry questioned. "How is he a bigger threat than the vampires?"

"Because he is a vampire," Roxxy replied. "He's one of the ones you've been trying to find a way to stop. I've seen him in visions. There isn't anything left of the Remy we knew. He's dark and evil. He plans on taking over the world. He's still got all of his powers. And he's after Dare."

Ororo felt the impact of Roxxy's last statement as if she'd been punched in the chest. Based on the frown that formed on Henry's face, he understood just how serious the situation was. "You know this for certain, Rosemary?" Henry's voice was low, filled with seriousness.

"I've seen it, Henry. I've seen what will happen if he gets his hands on her," Roxxy nodded.

"Well. Shit." Those two words very aptly described the situation. It only surprised Ororo that they came from Henry's lips. The room was silent a moment as people tried to understand what they were talking about, as they tried to find the gravity in the discussion. But there were few people in the room who knew Dare, who understood what she was and what she was capable of. No one quite got what it would mean for them if Remy managed to turn her.

"Would someone explain this to me?" T'Challa asked. Though his tone was polite, there was no missing the order in his words.

"Shuri, if you will pull up Xavier's files on Alasdare Scott," Henry said quietly. Shuri nodded and moved to a small alcove in the wall that seemingly served no purpose. But a few taps on one of the walls saw the alcove opening up to reveal a hidden computer terminal. When the keyboard popped up, Shuri dutifully typed in a string of words that saw a series of scanned documents and photos filling the screen almost instantly.

Henry joined her and tapped at the screen, moving pages around until a photo of Dare was sitting front and center. He motioned to the girl's image with one furry blue hand. "Alasdare Scott. The only true pyrokinetic in the world."

"What about Pyro?" Shuri asked, attention focused on a smaller screen near the keyboard she'd used.

"He has to have a accelerant and a match. Dare does not," Henry informed them.

"She is her own source of flames?" There was surprise and curiosity in Shuri's words. Ororo glanced at T'Challa to find that he was studying the photo with intensity. She felt confident that neither of them had ever heard of Dare before. She also felt confident that they were not going to like what they were about to hear.

"She is," Roxxy confirmed. Her attention was focused on the screen and Ororo could only imagine what it was she was actually seeing. "The professor searched after she came to the institute. He didn't think anyone like her should be left alone, without training and guidance. It would have been too easy to lead someone like that down the wrong path. He never found anyone. As far as we know, Dare is the only true pyrokientic on the planet. And Remy wants her."

There was silence a moment as they considered the statement and what it could mean.

"He wants to use her to take control of the world," T'Challa said softly.

"He does," Roxxy nodded. "Every vision I've had points to it. And it wouldn't be such a dire situation if Dare was anything like stable. But she isn't. The entire time she was at the institute, Morgan was the one who kept her sane and steady. But Remy turned Morgan. Without Morgan and, by extension, Faye, to influence her, it'll be too easy for Remy to confuse her and then turn her. When he does, he'll use her to set the world on fire and remake the ashes in his own image."

"Do you think such a thing is possible?" Shuri's voice was muffled, her attention still focused on the smaller screen. No doubt she was reading over the professor's notes.

"I do. We don't know how powerful she truly is. I don't think the professor ever really found the limits of her abilities. You remember the mission we went on to Canada?" Roxxy asked, turning her attention to Henry and Ororo. "Just before the vampire plague became a real epidemic?"

"Yes. You were asked to help a small village that was being threatened by anti-mutant groups," Ororo nodded. Scott had been leery about letting the girls go on such a mission. They'd never faced the kind of outright hate and bigotry that such groups showed. The professor had over-ridden Scott's concerns.

"When we left, Dare was asked by the authorities to stay behind. There was a wildfire that they wanted her help with. I looked into their files before coming here. According to the reports, Dare single-handedly held off a raging forest fire for three days while the authorities got people to safety and moved fire teams up to try and put the flames out." Roxxy shifted her focus from Henry and Ororo to T'Challa and Shuri. "Three days. Against a fire that had consumed millions of square miles of forest. She held it back. I honestly believe that the only limit there is on her abilities is Dare's sense of right and wrong. If Remy turns her..."

"That sense of morality will disappear," T'Challa finished quietly. The room behind them was absolutely still. Ororo let her gaze slide over the faces gathered there, not surprised to see that they had already put together a very grim picture of what would happen if Remy succeeded in his plans.

"Why has it taken you this long to find us, Rosemary?" Henry questioned, eyes resting on her face with obvious tender affection.

"When the vampires took the school... We tried to stop them. Haley, Morgan, Jehnna, and myself. There were other adults, though there were too few. They weren't equipped to deal with their friends. The children were being slaughtered. And we tried to stop them. But Remy was there and he took Morgan. He was trying for all of us, I think. I was in my cat form and I tried to launch a sneak attack. But Scott used an optic blast and threw me into a tree. They might have taken me, but ... something happened and I got away."

"What happened, Roxxy?" Ororo asked gently. There was hesitance in Roxxy's voice that said she wasn't sure if she should tell this part of the story. That it was perhaps still too raw. Or personal. That she didn't know if she should share it.

"Before launching my assault, I asked whatever deity that might be listening to give me their aid. To help me protect my friends and the children. And that prayer attracted the attention of one of the Old Ones," Roxxy explained. "It all happened when I hit the tree. I lost my cat form and couldn't get it back. But something else was unfurling inside of me. It was the last thing I remembered for nearly a year. Until just the other day."

"Thunderbird heard your call?" Henry guessed.

"He did," Roxxy nodded. "He gave me the ability to take the form of Thunderbird. I did it, desperate to escape Scott. But when I changed that first time, my memories were hidden away from me. My bird form took to the sky and I flew from the school to someplace in the Great Plains. I think it was South Dakota. That's where Thunderbird was waiting for me. I didn't know anything until a few months back, when I started dreaming."

"You dreamt of Remy and Dare?" Ororo asked. Roxxy nodded and clutched her hands together.

"There was so much fire. And she was scared. But she was angry, too. So angry. I don't know why."

"She's angry because Remy sent Logan after her," The voice came from the back of the room, where the shadows clung to the walls. Every head turned that way and watched as a lone figure pulled away from the darkness.

Dr. Bruce Banner looked much older than he was, face lined with fatigue and anger and worry. His clothes were slightly shabby, as if he'd been wearing them for some time. But the look of disuse and ill care could not dull the sharp expression in his eyes. He stared at Roxxy openly, hands clutched together before him as he approached the table. "Remy somehow managed to turn Logan and then he sent him after Miss Scott. She was forced to destroy him to save her own life."

"Where is she?" Roxxy asked. It wasn't the question Ororo had expected. She'd expected Roxxy to ask how he knew such things.

"In New York. At Avengers Mansion. With Tony and Clint," Bruce said gently. "She's safe for now. But she's acting recklessly."

"She has been setting fires all over the city," Shuri added. Her fingers tapped at the keyboard a few times and the images shifted away from Dare's photo to what were obviously crime scene photos and newspaper photos of burning and burnt out buildings. These were nothing Ororo had seen before. A glance at Henry said he hadn't, either. There was little to go by on Roxxy's face, and Ororo wondered what the woman's visions had contained.

"She's looking for Remy," Roxxy told them. She didn't need to elaborate on why. "And we need to stop her before she finds him."

~*~*~*~*~

There were so many bodies crowded into the underground club that she could barely move. Not that it mattered. She wasn't there to dance. She was there to drink. And to forget.

If such a thing was even possible.

The waitress pushed her way through the crowd, bringing a heavily bejangled wrist up into the face of some idiot asshole who thought he could get fresh with her. She didn't hear the crunch of the dude's nose over the pounding throb of music, but she saw the blood spurt from his nostrils. And she saw the grin on the waitress' face as she continued making her way through the crowd. Only a few seconds later, she was standing before the table with her tray in hand. "Here's that rum and Coke you ordered, babe."

"Thanks, Tippie. I owe you a big, fat tip," she told the woman, already lifting the drink to her lips.

"You know what you can give me for a tip, babe," Tippie responded, her eyes going dark with suggestion and need.

"We'll see what happens. The night is young and I intend to get shit faced," she returned. Then she downed half her drink in one gulp. Tippie's perfectly shaped eyebrow went up at that. She inched closer to the table, then leaned across is so that their lips were almost brushing together.

"You promise, babe? You know I want to get you naked and make you scream my name. Don't tease me if you don't plan to deliver," the woman said. Her hair shone like a raven's wing under the club's light and the corset she wore had her breasts pushed up into a mouth-watering display.

"I never say anything I don't mean," she whispered, then leaned forward and closed the gap between them. Tippie's lips were soft and plump and tasted of cherries. It was heady and painful all at the same time. She didn't let it distract her from the kiss and she made sure to slip her tongue into the other woman's mouth. Tippie slipped a hand behind her head and drew her even closer.

"Hey!" Tippie snapped as she jerked away, breaking them apart. Some dude stood behind her, grinning like he'd struck it rich. That lasted as long as it took Tippie to belt him across the mouth with her fist. The dude staggered away, hands clutching at his face. When he was gone, Tippie turned back to her and nodded. "We'll pick up where we left off later, babe. Promise. Let me go get you another drink."

~*~*~*~*~

Remy stared at the card in his hand and frowned. The meaning wasn't immediately clear and it was making him anxious. Nervous, even. The only thing he knew for certain was that there was more trouble to consider than the woman that had been at the bar. The one who had used garlic so effectively against him. He couldn't help but glance at the mirror, checking to ensure that the blood had worked as it had been meant to. Of course it had. Of course the raw, red splotches on his skin had healed up with a fresh round of blood. But it didn't stop him from worrying that maybe, just maybe, it hadn't worked as intended.

He muttered a curse under his breath and threw the card down in disgust. The last thing he needed was another distraction from his personal mission. The card had to be responding to his own feelings of failure. There was no way that there could be anyone else to stand in his way. Dare didn't have anyone to protect her beyond the little group of annoyances that clustered close to her like moths to an open flame.

The image those words produced made him chuckle. But the amusement was gone as quickly as it came and he was left to wonder how things had gotten so spectacularly fucked up in such a short amount of time. And he had to wonder how he was going to bring Dare to his side when she worked so hard at keeping distance between them.

Her dreams weren't weakening her will as fast as he wanted them to. She still fought him in her dreams, still maintained her presence of mind in them. It didn't seem to matter just how much he tried to persuade her with his mouth and hands and body. She still managed to keep him at arm's length. He needed a new direction. Or perhaps further distraction. Something to shatter every last shred of control she possessed.

"Why don' you show me somet'ing useful?" he muttered at the stack of cards. The glossy back of the top card remained silent, mocking him with its lack of help. Thus far, it hadn't done much of anything he'd call help where breaking Dare's spirit was concerned. He had to wonder if that first bit of information it had given him had just been a fluke. He had to wonder if the deck was lying to him. His temper spiked. He wanted to brush the cards from the table in a fit of anger, but something stayed his hand. Some instinct.

Slowly, hand almost shaking, he reached for that top card that had mocked him not so long ago and laid his fingers on top of it. The card practically vibrated under his touch. He slid it from the stack and slowly, so painfully slowly, turned it over so that he could read what the deck was trying to tell him. Again, he found himself staring at the lovers.

He turned several cards over until he understood what the cards were telling him. And, just like that, his mood shifted. They'd shown him a way to break her all the faster. Remy glanced at the cards laid out before him with a smile, then shifted his attention to the window and the darkness that pressed against the glass from the other side. It was a beautiful night. He felt like having a drink.

~*~

The club was crowded, people clustered together so tightly it was like sardines in a can. If sardines danced and gyrated and ground against one another. That was okay, because he needed to take a moment to look for his intended victim. It would be easier to do that here, on the top of the steps that would take him down onto the dance floor, because it allowed him to see over their heads to the tables that lined the walls on the other side.

The tables were full, inhabited by people who watched the crowd as they sipped drinks. People who were too involved in one another to care about the ones clustered around them. People who were too wrapped up in their drinks to care about anyone or anything else. His gaze slid around the room, searching for the reason he'd come. And he almost missed it.

Hidden back in the shadows was a table with a single soul occupying it. Said person blended into the shadows and was easy to overlook. If not for the energy pouring out of the corner, he might have missed them. Time to go to work.

He let the aura that rolled off him clear a pathway, stepping into the midst of the crowd with ease. They parted for him like the Red Sea had for Moses, every set of eyes shifting his direction in awe and lust and hunger. He saw some fear there, too. That made him want to laugh, made him want to bare his fangs and scare them further. But he put that urge aside and concentrated on his goal. The reason he'd come was so close now. He couldn't let himself be distracted so easily.

He made it to the table with little other distraction. She wasn't paying attention, instead staring intently at her drink. Her look was pensive, intense. Riddled with guilt. Something must have happened at home. He smiled a very not nice smile. That guilt was about to magnify ten fold.

"Trouble in paradise, cher? Let Remy fix dat for you," he said and took the seat beside her. Grey eyes snapped up to his face. He took hold of her arm before she could even think of scooting away from him, his free hand reaching up to cup her chin. "It good to see you, Dare. How `bout we kiss and make up?"

Comments

[cathryne]

Holy crap!

You're evil, I tell you! E-VIL!!! You and your damned cliffhangers...although I should know better than to expect anything less. ;)

I know you think I'm biased, but I LOVE this fic and I LOVE this chapter, biased or not! *evilly grinning* So much to love here - from Remy with the garlic to poor Dare and Clint with the burn, Roxxy in Wakanda (I really loved that) and just...

The suckage on the comment is real, but the sentiment on the enjoyment of this fic is too! :)

Makes me want to create an X character....LOL

LOVE it bb!

[ladydeathfaerie]

you tell me i'm evil at least once a day. you know this, right? and cliffhangers make my world go round. have you not figured that one out yet?

you are biased. absolutely and totally biased. but i had fun with this. Remy is enjoying his walk in the limelight, even if he's doing so with an evil twist. i think he does evil very well, to be honest. lots of stuff in this chapter just kind of came to me in the middle of trying to craft it.so much of my stuff is written on the fly, you know.

there is no suckage in the comment. but i'm glad you enjoyed reading the fic.

[nanaeanaven]

I regret to inform you that I forgot to review while I was reading. I just sorta got wrapped up in the story and forgot all about it. Whoops.

Well, it looks like Rose has managed to royally piss Remy off with her garlic bombs. Great. And Morgan. Jesus. Dare is going to burn her to ashes. No doubt about it.

That dream, OMG. It threw me at first because of Logan. I thought it was a flashback, but then Remy was there and shit got weird and just ... damn. Poor Clint. I hope his hand heals. It would really suck if this affected his ability to use a bow. And just what the hell was Rose doing with Tony? Hmmm? Inquiring minds want to know. ;)

Can I just say that the whole scene with Roxxy showing up in Thunderbrid form at Wakanda was fucking awesome? Because it was. I had chills through the whole thing. I just ... I can't even. So many feels. All the feels. And it was totally unexpected. I didn't even consider the possibility that Roxxy might go there. I honestly figured she'd try to find Dare first.

And speaking of Dare ... if that's her in the club with Remy, was that her flirting with the waitress earlier too? And if so, then WTF did I miss? Also - we are all fucked. Just ... shit. This is NOT good. Nope. Not at all.

[ladydeathfaerie]

its okay that you forgot to review as you went along. much as i enjoy them, i enjoy knowing that you were so caught up in the words that you lost track of all else.

i think its safe to say that Remy and Rose will never be really good friends. she shouldn't expect Christmas cards or anything like that. as for Morgan... yeah. its like she lost all brain cells with the change. Remy is plotting and planning. and Morgan is shredding his plans before he can even put them into play.

the dreams, as i'm sure you've figured out, are meant to wear down Dare's defenses. Logan was thrown into the mix because of her guilt over ending his life. but she's smarter than they give her credit for. i'm sure Clint's hand will be fine. Rose has some amazing balms and unguents that she can use. and no doubt there's something in the Avengers' infirmary that will help, too. curious that Rose was with Tony. who knows what they were up to?

i have this mental image of what Roxxy as Thunderbird looks like. and... she's huge. like... airplane huge. and while most of her feathers are brown, the black and gold markings are, in my mind, Native in origin. the gold comes from her lion's coat and matches her eyes. so i was imagining her just... gliding over the ocean to the African continent. barely flapping her wings because they're so broad and long. and she went to `Ro and Henry first because she knows she's going to need help if she's going to save the world. i'm so glad you liked what it did there. i really like how Roxxy is fleshing out under my fingers. you know?

as for the last bit... you'll find out more about it later. promise

glad you like it, sweets! thanks for reading!

[nanaeanaven]

i really like how Roxxy is fleshing out under my fingers. you know?

Me too! .:smooches:.