Chapter 39: That Fishy Smell
Emma rummaged through her office drawer. Behind the quarterly reports and in front of the catalogs lay her pistol. Never could tell when a firearm would be useful, and given how Manhattan turned into slaughter fest, she needed every advantage. Sooner or later, one of the many hazards would meander their way into her skyscraper and things would get physical. Belasco and Magneto--quite a tandem to deal with. Made her wish for simpler times, like when her greatest threat was another one of Jubilee’s childish pranks.
Suddenly, a ginormous boom shook the ground, tipping over expensive desk ornaments, a bottle of vodka, and a curious polar bear plush doll named Frosty Bear which made its cozy home at the top of a bookcase.
Emma peeled the blinds open in time to see high speed Sam Guthrie toss one of Belasco’s winged denomnesses into her office. What a naughty boy! The senior Guthrie didn’t even have the manners to stop, instead jetting on his way like nothing happened. Off in the distance, a blur which resembled Rogue collided into a building across from the Empire State Building, across from Magneto and... and... Storm?
Back to matter at hand: a well-endowed female projectile. Wide-eyed, Emma dove under her desk seconds before the thing smashed through the reinforced windows. An ominous crash, followed by an equally ominous swishing of water, signaled the grim end of Emma’s beloved aquarium. Peeking out from under her cover, the blonde observed the resilient demon--sopping wet, glass fragments puncturing her flesh, fish floundering under her weight, and blood just gushing everywhere--pick herself up and menacingly growl.
She stopped, sniffed the air, and hissed at the blonde. “You... you have the stench of Master’s wayward flayer about you...”
“And you broke my aquarium.”
Two nine millimeter bullets lodged themselves in the its eyes.
“No one fucks with the fish.”
Another shot struck its forehead before it fell over dead. Walking to the shards of her pride and joy, Emma sighed and tucked away her pistol.
“Poor babies,” she cooed at her floundering pets. Carefully, she cupped two of the survivors, rushed to the bar, and put them in a mug of water. “Stay,” she commanded.
Not a moment later, shrieks filled the air, drawn to this place by the scent of a fallen sister. Only the most powerful psychic suggestion could ward off--one, two, four, twelve, fuck it, stopped counting after twenty--sentient monsters.
*Betsy?*
An unexpected, harried yelp surprised the blonde. *Help!*
Brief glimpses of Betsy being attacked and smothered appeared in Emma’s mind. Out the door she went and into the fire escape. With little regard for life or limb, Emma jumped over the railing and free fell seventy stories. About halfway down, her skin acquired the diamond glimmer. On landing, she caved in the cement under her. Dust ploomed around her in the shape of a mushroom.
“Well,” she mumbled to herself, “That was certainly an exercise in stupidity.”
Even diamond could break. Didn’t need to find out the limits of her body now. What in the world possessed her to drop everything, ignore the impending danger, and plunge down here like this? Granted the jump looked and felt cool, but it was hardly constructive. The express elevators would’ve gotten her downstairs in no time and it’s not like Betsy was helpless. Doing this shaved seconds off her decent time and cut off Betsy from mental contact--not smart.
Probably could’ve exacerbated the situation.
What’s done was done. Emma hurried out the fire escape door and prepared for the worst. What she got looked more like a family reunion.
Brian had his sister in a headlock. Meggan helped her husband by holding Betsy’s legs in place. Strange and Amanda chanted some mystical incantation. Meanwhile, Betsy tried to say something but her brother’s thick arm muted her.
“Ahem.”
The action stopped. All eyes settled on Emma.
“Why are you groping Elisabeth?”
“She’s the one who brought Belasco here!” struggled Brian.
Betsy’s eyes swelled, indignation quite clear unlike her words. “Mrrm hmph vrrm, grckr!”
“Where’s the pendant?!” Amanda yelled, stopping her magic mumbo jumbo.
“Rver gwrr zo phem!”
“I assure everyone in this room, neither Elisabeth nor myself have any idea what pendant you’re talking about.”
Doctor Strange ended his chanting. “Ms. Frost tells the truth. I sense none of the large expenditure of power it would take to operate the pendant.”
Looking down at his sister, Brian broke into a cold sweat. “Bloody hell.” Betsy was going to wallop him good for this one.
Got his wish sooner than later.
Even though he still grappled Betsy, Meggan, after hearing the analysis, let go. Her legs freed, Betsy thwacked her brother with the tip of her foot. The pain doubled when she bit down, enough to leave a mark but not quite enough to draw blood. Reacting, Brian pulled on Betsy’s hair with his free hand and tried to wrestle his chew toy of an arm away.
The scrap would’ve been comical if a tinge of maliciousness didn’t taint it.
Of all people, Emma was the one to break up the twins. “Elisabeth,” she chided while pulling the two apart, “it was a misunderstanding.”
Demonic eyes flared. “Next time someone assaults you, let’s see how calm you’re going to be!”
Those words, uttered not long ago during a similar circumstance with reversed roles--Emma remembered them well. Wrapped in the unfeeling, logical world of her secondary mutation, the blonde found the comment inappropriate, rash, and unconstructive. In fact, the rashness measured on the magnitude of her jumping seventy stories for a shortcut.
The overlapping error in judgment disturbed Emma. A trend seemed to be evolving, one she had no interest in letting continue.
“We’re sorry, Betsy,” Meggan said. “You left in the middle of your phone call, and when we found out one of the artifacts Amanda was safeguarding went missing, we kind of assumed the worst.”
Although she meant to calm her sister-in-law, the blonde fanned the flames of Betsy’s outrage.
“This is how you treat family?” shouted Betsy, her stare burning at the two other Braddocks. “You think so little of me? What did I ever do to deserve that kind of suspicion?! What are you?! Infallible gods?!”
Not like Brian would take the flak quietly. “Excuse me, but we never claimed perfection!”
“Yeah,” added Amanda, “We just wanted to help. I think you’ve gone far enough with this attitude.”
“No! If you thought that’s far enough, you haven’t even begun to see where I’m going! You don’t trust me--my own twin brother doesn’t trust me. And why? Because I leaving a fucking phone off the hook!”
Ever the peacemaker, Meggan put herself between the siblings. “We’re worr-”
“Shut up!” Betsy screamed. Though only Emma noticed, her shadow strained to come alive. “Worry about your own damned self, you arrogant whore!”
Brian didn’t take kindly to the insult and his voice dipped low. “Take that back, Betsy.”
“What? You think I imagined Meggan’s fling with Kurt? No Brian, I remember your drunken calls at three in the fucking morning, all crying about the girl of your dreams leaving you for a blue freak!”
Rock solid hands intercepted the punch from Brian and the slap from Betsy. “Enough,” declared Emma. “Our aggression is pointless and unfounded.” Betsy tried to tear her wrist away but the blonde didn’t budge. “Elisabeth, turn your telepathy inward and tell me if you find a mental suggestion not unlike the one you were broadcasting to protect this building.”
The wrong tumblers of ideas fell into place in Betsy’s mind. Anger at Brian shifted to anger at Emma, anger and good helping of betrayal. “Are you accusing me of something?”
Quick as lightning, Emma flipped Betsy to the ground and jammed a knee into her back. Shadows burst to life and futilely flicked at the blonde. “If you require an accusation, I am accusing you of being manipulated. Think, Elisabeth, ask yourself when you’ve felt this uncharacteristic brashness and when you’ve been free from it.”
She didn’t listen. She wriggled, she gnashed, she trashed, she roared, she swiped, but she didn’t listen. Her appendages wailed away like they were making progress, but they weren’t. They couldn’t grab a hold of diamond. In Emma’s estimation, someone here was on the verge of doing something they’d later regret--Betsy attacking her family, her family attacking her, Strange pulling a mystical rabbit out of the air, Magik doing likewise. She had to get Betsy to listen to reason, but that required her to turn back into flesh and resume their psychic bond. The anger afflicting everyone would overtake her again; the shadowy tendrils had a real chance at harming her.
But Emma trusted Betsy. It wasn’t an illogical trust: Betsy proved her worth. The risk versus reward wasn’t unreasonable: infighting did no good. On top of everything came a time constraint: demons closed in while Magneto loomed. And the cherry on the sundae? Emma could examine if her mental suggestion theory held any water.
She trusted Betsy, but when you needed something done right... ehhh... you know the saying.
Diamond softened and warmed. Inky tendrils stopped in their tracks and fluttered over silky flesh. Betsy stopped struggling. Emma’s impulsiveness reasserted itself, but the blonde held it check with her emotional discipline. Emma flooded their bond with manufactured serenity and passivity, lulling Betsy into a mesmerized state which was easy to control. Claws disappeared, rage evaporated, and the demon receded.
*Now that I have your undivided attention, I want you to listen to me.*
Caught in the dreamy state, Betsy nodded.
*Shield our minds. Only you and I exist.*
Brian’s shouts, Strange’s observations, Meggan’s sobs, and Amanda’s sneers paled away. Under Emma’s orders, Betsy trapped themselves in their bond, closing off every bit of stimulation besides their own.
Goodbye world, hello astral plane.
A barren, none descript room enclosed them. Betsy sat on the ground, her eyes far away, her mouth smiling, her mental form pliable like putty--an attractive canvas. In the supremely vulnerable state, Emma could’ve done anything to her and she wouldn’t know. The fact that she remained unchanged testified to Emma’s willpower and honor.
Not to mention her affections.
*Wake up, darling.*
With those three words, the blonde released Betsy from her hazy peace. If any other person waltzed about in Betsy’s mind like so, they would’ve found a nice psychic knife in their skull. Since the intruder was Emma, and a very concerned looking Emma at that, Betsy played nice.
Well, playing nice was easier without the blinding anger. *What happened?*
*Sinister plots, subtle ploys--someone is planting emphatic suggestions in us for their own gains.* A wiry grin chased some of the tension away. *How many times have you caught yourself excessively impulsive?*
Betsy immediately caught on to Emma’s train of thought. *Too many to count,* she sighed. *Everything from stealing the Blackbird to trying to tear Brian’s eyes out right now...*
*I’ve found my thoughts fractured and my emotions too raw, both for no good reasons. In truth, I just fell seventy stories to get on the ground faster to answer your cries. God, I didn’t even know what was wrong with you.*
*Should I feel flattered or alarmed at your protectiveness?*
The blonde snuck in a fleeting kiss and a comforting touch. *I’d say alarmingly flattered.* As quick as the gestures appeared, they disappeared, leaving Betsy to pout at the loss. *We have other concerns, though. Can you feel the psychic energies wearing at your shields?*
*Slightly. They’re faint, almost like ubiquitous background noise.* Further isolation of the energies drew sharp displeasure from Betsy. *I can’t believe I didn’t notice these insidious little waves. Curious too, they’re not so much suggestions as they are amplifiers for negative emotions. They’re emanating from a far away but I can’t pinpoint the origin.*
*Then whatever they are and from wherever, it’s undeniable someone is stirring up the ranks of sentient beings everywhere.*
*But what powerful telepath can do this so skillfully and massively?*
*Xavier.*
*Jean.*
*Stryfe.*
*That also means Cable.*
*Both of us, if we combined our powers.*
*Yet, how come I get the feeling that Magneto is involved with this in some way, shape, or form?*
*Because my perceptive ways have blessed you with my wisdom*
Betsy stomped on the floor and folded her arms. *I don’t know whether to laugh or scowl at you.*
Another soft kiss shut Betsy’s mouth. *I do enjoy our bantering and your sweet lips, but there’s things to do and no time to do them. We have to protect ourselves from this mental bombardment, stop Magneto, and prevent demons from flying in through my office.*
*Flying in through your office? Why would they do that?*
*Sam Guthrie did it, that’s all you need to know.*
*Sam?*
*Where you find one X-Man, you find them all.*
Innumerable swift, deft hands embraced the blonde, simulating her in all the right places at one time. And that was the advantage of mental communication: interaction was only limited by imagination. Right now, Betsy had a hell of an imagination. *I’d resent that if it wasn’t so true.*
*Ooo,* purred Emma, *Feisty little one. Are you always this excited?*
A soft breath grazed the nape of Emma’s neck. *When there’s a fight or...*
She trailed off, mischievousness sparkling about her.
*Or?*
Without warning, the astral connection closed down and deposited the women into the oppressive, besieged Manhattan. While they held an entire conversation, mere seconds passed in the physical world.
“Later,” Betsy winked.
Still shivering from the sexual taunting, Emma responded mentally. *Careful, Elisabeth. When I claim my revenge, it will be a long, excruciating process.*
“Looking forward to it.”
“Frost, what are you doing to my sister?!”
Back to the drama.
Although Betsy and Emma found the root of their aggression, that information hadn’t yet reached anyone else. Negative emotions burned away as strong as ever, and while most here weren’t known as hotheads, they weren’t peaceful either. Meggan, harkening back to an earlier, badly adjusted age, bawled like a baby; Amanda cawed like a harpy; Brian carried on like a drunkard. Only Stephen retained a semblance of tranquility, but one expected no less from the Sorcerer Supreme.
To combat this scene, the X-Women worked in a tandem. Extending her psychic shields, Betsy enveloped the unprotected; following behind, Emma wiped out the traces of mental manipulation.
The results were stark and immediate. Bodies returned to normal along with their minds and the shouting, bickering, and bickering died swiftly. The mix of puzzlement (“I remember what I was doing but I don’t remember why”) and uneasiness (“I said and did what?!) put most of the Otherworld contingent on their mental heels.
Not Stephen though. Despite Emma and Betsy’s efforts, they couldn’t penetrate Doctor Strange’s mind. Peculiarly enough, the man even threw them a questioning look and some words. *If you wished to speak, you could have opened your mouths.*
*Sorry,* said Betsy as she escaped from under Emma’s clutches, *We puzzled out the cause behind the severe mood swings plaguing us and decided to do something about them. You haven’t had any sudden, destructive or depressive impulses have you?*
*Only ones to knock some good sense into my uncontrolled companions.*
*I guess you’re unaffected...*
*******************
- To be continued...
Deviant Hearts Archive | Back to main index