Chapter 33: From Worst to Worstest
Yvette Kelson-Pratt was in love. One second she free fell from the top of the Empire State Building while going through the mandatory flashback of one’s life; the next a dreamy man on a motorcycle jumped high into the air and impossibly caught her in his strong yet gentle arms. That smile, that face, those strange alluring eyes, that slight smell of cigarette smoke...
“So sexy,” she breathed.
Didn’t matter the dude just wrecked his Harley. Didn’t matter he was freezing cold and wet. Didn’t matter he had a terrible case of five o’clock shadow. Yvette was in love and she couldn’t get enough of those dashing features and smooth, silky movements. What a strapping specimen of a man this stranger was. What grace, what speed, what looks, what else?
“Chere, you can leggo of Remy now.”
He referred to himself in the third person! How refreshingly quaint! Oh, and was that a Cajun accent she heard? Whatever, he could be a caveman and she’d lose himself in his voice. His command of the English language only made him so much more appealing.
You know, a caveman might’ve been nice.
Normally, Remy enjoyed the lavish attentions of the opposite sex. Whether at a bar or on a mission, the women adored him and he adored them back. Now, however, was a bad time for his magnetic personality to stick another damsel on him. The Blackbird went down not three blocks away, some kind of red lightning shot into the sky in Battery Park, and if he wasn’t going nuts, Magneto and a motley crue of mutants just parked themselves atop a skyscraper.
Hmm, maybe he did have time for this woman.
Dodging foot and vehicular traffic, Remy--with woman still in his arms--ducked into a twenty four hour video store. Being such a late hour, most of the customers inside congregated around the adult section in the back, and upon hearing the ragin’ Cajun’s entrance, ten pairs of eyes glanced at him.
The spectacle wearing clerk behind the counter droned “Can I help you folks?” before going back to his activity of flipping channels, obviously with no intent of actually helping.
Remy set the woman down and turned on his charm. “Mind tellin’ Remy why pretty things be fallin’ from da sky?”
Yvette wanted to kiss him. Wasn’t that how damsels awarded their knights? No, a kiss was too forward and made her look desperate. Actually, she was desperate, so no inaccuracies there. Her near-fatal fall, subsequent adrenaline rush, the unrelated eight months of celibacy, and this tall, dark, and handsome sex god destroyed the little self-control she had. Life could end at any moment: no way would this stranger be getting away without a kiss.
Oh no, what if he had a wife? Worse yet, what if he was gay? Men looking this good always had strings attached. Would he sue her for sexual assault? Damn, she couldn’t afford to lose her job! She couldn’t take him turning her down either. No, no, no, what if he turned her down AND sued her? Why did his presence seem to bear down on her? Why was the video store so hot all of a sudden? Why did she feel like such a loser?!
Fuck it, girl, stop thinking and starting acting.
Three of the customers put down the adult videos and leered at the developing scene.
Hearing no answer and seeing immense concentration, Remy pressed his lips thinner, raised an eyebrow, and ran a hand through his hair. “Dis angel speaks, no?”
Ruffled, wet locks of brown and the sultry, lyrical words--Yvette gulped. “H...h... Hi.”
Hi? The man of her dreams rescued her from a fateful splat and all her mouth could muster was “Hi?”
“Maybe we got off on de wrong foot,” smiled Remy, “De name’s Remy, Remy LeBeau. Et toi?”
Quick! Make up something! No, real name, just in case he asked for a number! Fake name! Real name! Yvette threw her arms up in frustration and flung herself into his face. The initial act would’ve so much more suave, smooth, and sexy if she didn’t aim too high and smooch his nose. She corrected the mistake ASAP.
The rest of the video store customers watched from their barricades in the adult section.
The store clerk finally settled on one channel and turned up the volume.
“-to call everyone’s attention to these events. Stay calm, citizens of New York. The authorities are working as hard as they can to neutralize these mutant threats. The United States military is mobilizing as we speak, so I urge all of you to stay indoors and do not, under any circumstances, get in the way of these bloodthirsty, insane mutants! Magneto will be stopped-”
“Mon dieu,” grumbled Remy, separating himself from Yvette. The woman sighed contently while he tore out of the video store and back into the increasingly chaotic streets.
While Yvette swooned, the customers resumed their perusal of the adult content.
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Tessa watched New York crumble. As Magneto’s declaration of war disseminated into the community, more and more mutants came out of hiding to exact revenge against their persecutors. Grossly deformed mutants showed themselves, some coming from the back alleys, most rising from the sewers. The Morlocks might’ve been massacred, but enough poor abominations still sought shelter in Manhattan’s filthy underbelly. Suddenly, turning the corner meant the real possibility of running into certain doom, especially if humans came across the more aggressive packs of homo superiors.
A shame. Many could’ve become so much more transient freak shows; their unique abilities fit many of them into society. What construction company couldn’t use a powerful brute? What law firm couldn’t use an eidetic memory? Prejudice precluded them from reaching their potentials because they were different. Magneto gave his species an opportunity to show their oppressors true fear; he gave them a banner to rally around.
One way or another, the white haired wacko would fulfill his people’s potential.
Yet, while mutants fought for their future and their vengeance, unsavory humans ransacked their own people. Cinder blocks broke the windows of abandoned stores; gunfire carried into the night winds. Police sirens bathed streets in blue and red, but not even they could dam the rivers of blood winding into the gutters. In a truly sad twang of irony, by Tessa’s estimation, humans inflicted more damage on themselves than the mutants did on them.
This... this civilization... these people... This was what Charles Xavier wanted to coexist with: opportunistic drones who paid heed to nothing but themselves. Humans.
Tessa’s gaze shifted to Battery Park where hell made its home on earth. Sickening beings crept from an ephemeral tear in reality itself. Awesome outputs of energy pulsed from the portal, each peak signaling another round of demons entering the fray.
And the demons slaughtered everything. For now, Belasco’s small army forced him to remain in the park, unable to take on the vast numbers of humans and mutants. Other pieces would keep him in check until his time. Everyone had a role to play in this game, and Belasco served as the coup de grace. Where thousands of mutants would fail, an endless supply of demons would prevail. It all had to do with timing, planning, and anticipation.
From high above, Tessa watched one of mankind’s greatest cities fall. Everyone reaped what they sow, human, mutant, or demon.
Dear Professor Charles Xavier was no exception.
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One of Quiet Bill’s portals appeared over North Cove. He walked through, followed closely by an impressive sword which was in turn held by an even more impressive man. If Battery Park hadn’t soaked up everyone’s attention, this scene would’ve ended up on the front page of the New York Times. As things stood, no one noticed the two men because everyone was busy running for their lives.
No one noticed Vargas smile and behead Quiet Bill.
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- To be continued...
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