DISCLAIMER: Pryde and Wisdom, the X-men and Excalibur all are trademarks of Marvel Comics. DV8 all are trademarks of Image Comics. John Constantine and other Hellblazer-related characters all are trademarks of DC/Vertigo Comics. This story is an unauthorized work done purely for my personal enjoyment, and is not intended to infringe on any of their rights in or profits from these characters. But this story is copyright to me.
WARNING:
THERE WILL BE EXPLICIT SEX IN THIS STORY. I will mark those sections
clearly in the individual section headers. If reading sex scenes would
offend you, please don't read this story.
If you want to comment, send email to <luba@lubakmetyk.net>
Part 1 Sweet Dreams
It was either very late at night or very early in the morning, depending on your point of view. Pete Wisdom was still awake, trying to decide if it was too late or too early to be awake. He was tossing and turning, having trouble getting back to sleep after his latest encounter with the X-men, in their kitchen, in the middle of the night, in the nude.
It hadn't been all that bad for Kitty. After all, she'd still been wearing his shirt and could just wrap it around herself quickly, although she did scrabble around a bit hunting for his tie, which she'd been using earlier as a belt. But his trousers had somehow ended up over on the other side of the kitchen table, and he knew he couldn't get them back on in just a few seconds, so the only thing he had to cover himself up with was Kitty herself. Pete had felt a bit funny hiding behind a woman's shirt-tails, especially with this hostile crowd, especially when they were his own shirt-tails. He'd breathed an audible sigh of relief when Logan had thrown him his own plaid flannel shirt with a feral grin, just grateful it was long enough to cover most of what mattered until Domino had handed him his trousers with a bland smile.
After the fuss with Tabitha the previous day and now this, Wisdom figured somebody was trying to tell him something, and he'd gotten the message. Even though she was asleep and couldn't hear him, he muttered his new resolution into Kitty's ear. "Ok, Pryde, I don't care how much I want to have it on with you, from now on we ain't doin' it unless we're behind closed an' locked doors as long as we're still here. No more o' this spontaneous romance garbage 'til we're back home where at least our lot got the class to pretend not to sneak an' peek, I swear on a stack o' Bibles... although I suppose it can't be any ol' plain King James, can it, it's got to be some special rabbi-approved Old Testament... and don't that soddin' old git Xavier make a great god o' vengeance..."
Shifting around in the strange bed with a quiet groan, he wrapped himself tightly around Kitty's warm, soft body, burying his face in her hair and letting the familiar feel and scent of her lull him to sleep. But it had been a day full of excitement, and poor Pete was still keyed up from the multiple confrontations, as he finally fell into an uneasy sleep.
Wisdom was in the back yard of the Westchester mansion, partially hidden from view behind large white-flowering bushes in the very same spot where he'd had his confrontation with Xavier the previous evening during the picnic dinner.
A dark shadow fell over him suddenly. Glancing upward, Pete saw Professor Xavier looming above him, a hulking man-mountain bigger even than Caliban. The Professor was dressed in red and purple Doctor Dentons, the same hideous color scheme Pete had seen in various recorded images of Magneto. Also reminiscent of the great master of magnetism, Xavier had a galvanized tin bucket on his enormous bald head, but this bucket was worn tilted back like an Egyptian fez and had an elaborate purple and gold curtain-pull tassel hanging down the side.
"I am the onslaught of your worst nightmares!" Xavier roared, in a voice that made the ground shake like an earthquake and started all the white fluffy clouds in the sky roiling and darkening into dismal grey thunderheads. "The whole universe is my oyster! Bow down, my yes-men, and worship me as your rightful master, you puny worms, or else..."
Pete looked around him, to see that virtually all the members of the X-Men and X-Force were there in the back yard, huddling together in a number of small clusters, all quaking in their boots from fear of the looming man-monster threatening them, all cowed and subservient except for Moira MacTaggert who demanded, "Or else whit?"
"Or else I'll huff..." The Professor boomed, as his figure grew even larger and more intimidating, and the sun disappeared behind the gloomy clouds, and the winds started blowing and raindrops began to fall.
"And I'll puff..." The towering monstrosity shouted even louder, his head now up in the clouds where his breath generated gale-force winds that whipped the sheets of rain pouring down into intricate patterns that bent and broke the surrounding trees and bushes into splinters and shreds.
"And I'll blow your house down..." The enormous figure of Xavier filled the entire sky now, but was barely visible in the murky gloom as hurricane-force winds smashed the entire Westchester mansion into a pile of matchsticks and kindling promptly washed away by the flood of rain.
"And you'll all have to go out and work for a living..." Xavier concluded his awesome threat to end all existence as they knew it.
All around him, Wisdom saw the X-Men and X-Force all fall down to the ground on their knees in raw terror, and begin salaaming and kowtowing to demonstrate their utter submission to their undisputed lord and master...
Pete woke up for a moment, disoriented, but Kitty's body in his arms was a warm anchor to him as always. He kissed her bare shoulder lightly, as he mumbled to himself, "This soddin' bunch o' useless gits go out in the real world an' work for a friggin' livin', heh, not bloody likely..." before falling back into his restless doze.
Wisdom was in a bar. It wasn't a nice London pub like those he liked to frequent, with old wooden panelling, smoke from the fireplace mingling with the odor of cigarettes, a garrulous innkeeper behind the bar and lots of familiar faces among the regulars having a pint to exchange the time of day with. Instead, this was a grimy inner-city American bar, the fittings all cracked vinyl and plastic, the occasional smell of tobacco swamped by other more noxious odors which he recognized but would rather not have to identify explicitly, and the only familiar face at the bar was a drunken Moira MacTaggert arguing loudly with the equally rude bartender.
Immediately giving up any idea of getting himself a drink, Wisdom turned away from the bar quickly, praying fervently that that obnoxious Scots harridan hadn't spotted him.
Glancing toward the back of the room, he saw Scott Summers dressed all in black in Hell's Angels biker's leathers, using his optic blasts in place of a cue stick to play penny-ante pool against all comers. "Come on now, double or nothing. Put up your money, and I'll put up my woman." Cyclops looked different, somehow. Coming up closer, Pete saw his hair was long and wavy, falling over his face to completely obscure one side. Wisdom idly mused "I wonder how he aims with no depth perception..."
Jean Grey stood nearby, her fiery red hair gathered up in a teased-up old-fashioned bun, dressed in a black leather bikini bottom and bustier, black thigh-high spike-heeled boots and a black cloak thrown back over her shoulders to highlight her creamy white skin all the better, striking a provocative model's pose even as she whined, "I keep telling you, Scott, I could make a whole lot more money for us if you'd just let me go back to waitressing at the Hellfire Club. I bet I could pull in a lot in tips..."
As Cyclops ignored her pouting to set up his next shot, Jean noticed Pete standing there, as he was pulling his cigarettes out of his pocket. "Tell him I'm right, Mr. Wisdom... You'd give me a big tip, wouldn't you, if I took care of you nicely?" Jean took the bic lighter out of Pete's hand and leaned forward to light his cigarette for him, giving him an eyeful of her ample charms. Fumbling around with the cheap lighter, she complained sulkily, "Here I am, the Phoenix, fire incarnate, and I can never get these damn things to work..."
She threw the lighter away in irritation, only to have it hit one of the customers at the bar squarely behind the ear. As the guy collapsed slowly, a hulking Cable, also clad in black bikers' leathers but wearing a ratty baseball cap emblazoned with 'Bouncer' in neon yellow, loomed up out of the hazy gloom. "We don't want no trouble here, runt... This guy bothering you, big bad momma? I can pitch him out into the alley on his ear, no problem..."
Pete stirred, half-awake again. "Yeah, mebbe I need to get up an' have a fag. That might help me break out o' these stupid dreams an' get relaxed so I can get me some real sleep..." But smoking in bed with Kitty while she was asleep and couldn't object if she wanted to seemed to go against the odd little rules they were developing for living together, and he didn't really want to leave off cuddling up to her warm body in their bed even for a moment to go have a smoke elsewhere, so he just lay there happily nuzzling his face into her thick hair until he drifted off again.
Wisdom found himself in a football stadium, trapped in a crowd of tightly packed, garishly dressed and insanely cheering Americans. Looking around, he spotted an enormous sign advertising the premiere game of the Westchester Wildcats, the first all-women football team admitted to play in the major leagues.
Most of the Wildcats looked like they weighed in at about a third of their hulky opposition, and their zaftig figures were all well-displayed by their team uniform, deep royal blue spandex thong leotards which left nothing to the imagination, with matching thigh-high spike-heeled boots, bright yellow wide belts emphasizing their wasp waists and bright yellow circles around inscribed 'x's highlighting certain other protuberant portions of their anatomies, which in Pete's opinion needed no additional emphasis to attract inordinate attention. They wore no protective gear, the better to display their charms, not even helmets, which would have covered up their incredible hair, red, white, purple even.
Led by their quarterback, a feisty young Southern belle with fiery green eyes and a vivid white streak down the middle of her flowing mane of auburn hair, the ladies were having no trouble at all demolishing their opposition, following instructions screamed from the sidelines by their head coach, Moira MacTaggert, despite their apparent disadvantage in weight and bulk. Of course, they were also helped by the fact that the opposing team just stood there with drooling idiot mouths hanging open behind their faceguards and with other protuberant portions of their somewhat different anatomies obviously straining at the protective gear the men wore.
Glancing around from his ideal seat at the 40yd line, Pete could see Bishop, wearing only a jockstrap and enormous shoulder pads, prancing his way through a dance routine in line with the other Westchester Wildcats' Wimps, their equally revolutionary all-male cheerleading squad. Caliban and Warpath were a little further away, down the line, dressed the same way. However, instead of waving pompoms, they were all busily spraying the frantic crowd with enormous waterguns they kept waving around. Wisdom gagged when a few drops of liquid hit him, recognizing the unique flavor of Moira's awful coffee.
Over the deafening roar of the frenetic crowd, Pete could hear two men next to him talking. One was saying intently, "I tell you, Charlie, we sign the Wildcats to do a swimsuit calendar, we'll all make a bundle." The other man shook his head, only to say, "Nah, you're thinking small potatoes, Joe. What we really need to do is, we sign up those cheerleader guys to do the swimsuit calendar. I'm telling you, it'll go over even bigger than the Chippendale men. Just look at the beefcake on that one there... but it'll take a lot of makeup to cover up that 'M' on his face, maybe we should just plan on going with a butt shot for him..."
Pete woke up again. "God, I can't believe I let Wagner's cute little witch friend talk me into watching American football that one time last week, trying to convince me it's better than real football. I always knew all sports was just a bloody waste o' time... well, almost all sports..." He grinned to himself, thinking of one particular contact sport he'd never minded playing at, especially now, as long as it was with Kitty. She felt him as he pressed himself even more tightly against her svelte back, even deep in slumber, and reached over to pull his hand up onto her breast with an inarticulate murmur, as he dozed off again.
Wisdom found himself dressed in gray convict gear, his leg irons chained to fellow prisoners Gambit and Logan. Moira MacTaggert, in navy blue guard's uniform, escorted the trio into the prison warden's office. Inside, they found an elegant Xavier in a three-piece business suit seated in a leather-upholstered, high-backed executive swivel chair behind an enormous hardwood desk, frowning at them all in stern disapproval.
Warden Xavier sighed at the three hardened criminals arraigned in front of him. The short, vicious Logan was in for manslaughter, a death in a bar-room brawl that had gotten out of hand, and not the first such on his record. The tall, cunning Gambit was in for grand larceny, a jewelry store robbery gone wrong, caught when his disgruntled brother-in-law had tipped the police about the planned heist ahead of time, to get revenge for his sister being abandoned for another woman. Wisdom was in for life, and nobody believed him when he protested that he was innocent, that he'd been framed by his girlfriend's family as a convenient way of getting rid of an undesired boyfriend. His girl was the only one who believed in him. She'd promised she'd wait for him, however long it took, and he lived for her rare and brief visits, which were the only thing keeping him going.
By accident, the warden had gotten hold of a box of goodies being smuggled in for them, a bottle of Scotch for Pete, cigars for Logan, and several decks of cards for Gambit. It was a mistake: the brown-paper parcel the smuggled little luxuries were in was exactly the same size and shape as the package delivering the warden's new Bruno Magli shoes. And as soon as they opened the carton and saw the rare and expensive leather shoes, the three prisoners knew they were in deep trouble with the warden. Xavier may have had sybaritic tastes he liked to indulge, but he was quite puritanical in his treatment of everyone else, especially his prisoners. And Pete knew it was the bribe money for keeping him incarcerated that bought many of Warden Xavier's own luxuries.
After a long and tedious lecture about appropriate behavior and following the rules, the warden sentenced all three of them to solitary confinement in their cells for 999 years. "But that means..." Before Wisdom could finish his shocked response, Xavier smirked and replied, "Right, son, that means loss of all privileges, which includes no more conjugal visits for you from that pretty little sweetheart of yours... But you won't lack for entertainment and distraction, I promise. For I will make a point of spending a full hour every day outside your cell, praying for your eventual admission of guilt and associated repentance."
As Moira escorted the three inmates back to their cells, Pete didn't know which freaked him out worse, the idea of never seeing his girl again or the idea of Xavier praying over him for his reformation every day. Wisdom spent every spare moment of his unwelcome solitude using his hot knives to cut a hole through the wall of his cell, hiding it behind the bigger-than-life pinup poster of his sweetheart that she'd had made for him as a morale-boosting gift. After breaking through the thick brick and concrete wall, he spent even longer tunneling along within the prison walls, until he was able to climb down and break into an old sewer tunnel. Now all he had to do was wade and swim through a mile-long river of sewage to escape...
The miasma in that sewage tunnel was intense enough to wake him up. Pete knew just exactly what that escape route would smell like, he'd been in such a situation several times during his previous life as an agent. He buried his face in Kitty's hair again, breathing in her delicate and fresh female scent deeply, thinking, "Hell, I'd do bloody anything to escape either of those two pocket 'itlers, 'specially if they ever really tried keepin' me away from Kitty," As sleep reclaimed him yet again, he wondered if there was anything he wouldn't do to stay with Kitty.
Wisdom was in the Olympic Stadium, at the ladies' ice-skating competition finals, trying to keep his balance on the slippery ice as he ogled a bevy of young women in skimpy costumes quite similar to what he'd seen all the X-women wearing the day before. None of them was skating, though. They were all clustered around the judges' table, each trying to shove her way to the front to register her complaint.
"He made me fall down during my triple axel jump," a short and dumpy blonde named Tonya sobbed pathetically. A tall and elegant brunette named Nancy stormed regally, "He made me slip during my triple lutz." An angry and upset oriental girl named Kristi slammed her fist on the table, making the equipment jump. "He made me stumble in my triple-double combination."
Wisdom looked around and saw Emma Frost in all her original White Queen regalia dragging a smirking Bobby Drake up to the judges' table by the ear, where she proclaimed, "Since we can't trust the quality control on his ice-making," giving him a vigorous shake, "I suggest we get the Zamboni back out of storage and use it to spread him out over the rink to patch all the little pitfalls he left..."
"He promised me he'd mess up the others if I went out with him..." All the girls said the same thing, then looked around at each other in surprise and dawning understanding. "We all told him we would, but we really never intended to pay up, later..."
"No, no, you don't understand, it wasn't me, it was her..." Bobby Drake kept babbling, and Pete glanced over to where Iceman was gesturing frantically to see Tabitha standing alone on the winner's podium, popping timebombs like chewing gum as she shrugged, "Any way you can blow away the competition is fine by me..."
Then Moira MacTaggert drove up on the Zamboni, flattening both Tabitha and the podium without a moment's pause as she headed purposefully toward Emma and Drake. And Wisdom had the very definite feeling that Moira was much more interested in smearing the White Queen across the ice rink than in punishing Iceman for his creative on-the-job dating techniques.
Pete stirred half-awake again, thinking to himself drowsily, "Better watch yourself there, Emmie, old girl..." even as he wondered just when and how he was going to explain his history with the notorious White Queen to Kitty and remain alive afterward, given Kitty's definitely jaundiced view of Emma Frost. He knew if the question ever came up he'd tell Kitty everything, he wouldn't dream of lying to her, but he couldn't help hoping that it wouldn't come up for a long time, preferably an indefinitely long time. Stifling a groan as he tried to stretch out in place without moving too much and disturbing Kitty, he pressed close against her again and dozed off once more.
Wisdom found himself standing at the side of a big open square, just outside a shrunken castle that looked more like a subscale fairytale setting than any of the authentic medieval historical structures Pete had occasionally visited back home. The square was filled to overflowing with a vast sea of people dressed in a medley of crazy costumes, every color in the rainbow clashing in an eye-blinding display. Everybody seemed to be extremely busy doing completely incomprehensible things, and the noise they all made, shouting, singing, tuning instruments, was deafening.
Pete grabbed one of the crowd rushing by, and saw that he'd gotten hold of Siryn. She was dressed in an odd emerald green tuxedo jacket over bleached white breeches, with a tall green tophat perched on her red hair and a thin brown cane tucked under her arm, which she promptly pulled out and used to rap Wisdom's knuckles, hard, where he held her by the sleeve. "Wait a soddin' minute, can't you, all I want 'ere is to know where the bleedin' hell I am and what the friggin' hell you're got up as..."
"This be Disneyland, ye Sassenach spalpeen, an' A be Jimmy Cricket, an' A hae work tae do..." As Wisdom cringed away in horror as he finally recognized his surroundings, she twisted out of his loose grip only to stop again just a short distance away, in front of a lumpy gray elephant. "Whist, Dumbo, time tae practice flyin' around fur th' grand parade..."
Pete saw the elephant's enormous ears begin to flap awkwardly, and the front of the elephant lifted off the ground. The back followed a moment later, but not quite in time, as the costume was torn in half to reveal a sweat-soaked and furious Roberto daCosta wearing the elephant's rear as a pair of extremely oversized gray sweatpants. "Look, you idiot, you're supposed to give me fair warning of takeoff and then be careful to move slowly so that I can keep hold of your waist, to keep us together..."
The front end of the elephant heaved in turn, and the blonde-haired blue-skinned head of an equally aggravated Archangel appeared from within the masses of gray fabric, his wings still covered with the elephant's ears. "Look, you obnoxious jerk, it's hard to fly smoothly with your wings covered by elephant's ears, ok, while trying to use your arms to make the trunk wave around at the same time. I'm trying my best..."
Ignoring their mutual recriminations, Siryn rapped both of them with her cane as she ordered them to try again, since the show was about to begin. "Ye twain were hired fur this job on th' braggin' ye did that ye could fly wi'out nae wires needed, but ye maun fly t'gether t' make Dumbo work, ye sillies..."
While Wisdom bemusedly watched the clumsy elephant try to take off, over and over, without any marked success, a little boy running by hit him on the shin with an official Disney-licensed and -approved magic wand. As Pete hopped up and down on his other foot while cursing a blue streak, earning himself an audience of fascinated kids and dirty looks from all the parents in his immediate vicinity, he cringed to see his attacker's Mickey Mouse ears fall off to reveal Xavier's bald pate shining in the sunlight, while Moira MacTaggert rushed up to grab the kid's hand and upbraid Pete for mistreating her darling little angel.
Pete woke up again, moving his foot to see if it really did hurt. "Where the bloody hell did that come from? I wouldn't be caught dead within a million miles of a ruddy zoo like them American entertainment parks ever again, all full of yellin' screamin' brats an' even worse prats of parents who can't control their cheeky little bastards..." He looked at the clock on the bedside table, and groaned at still being awake at the hour shown. Kitty shifted restlessly herself next to him, in unconscious response to feeling him move, and Pete immediately settled down again, murmuring soft wordless sounds in her ear until she lay quietly sleeping again, after which he gradually dozed off again also.
Wisdom found himself in the mansion's back yard again, where that evening's picnic dinner had taken place. But, instead of wearing casual summer clothes, all the women now wore pastel-coloured organdy and muslin gowns whose enormous hooped skirts belled out around them and equally wide straw and cotton hats shading their faces, while the men wore skin-tight fawn and mustard-coloured breeches under stiff broadcloth jackets, with tall and stiff cravats appearing more likely to succeed in strangling them than any foe, all of them busily bragging about their expected bravery and gallantry in the imminent Civil War between the Mutants and the Humans.
Wisdom was idly thinking to himself, 'That's more than I seen most of them wearin' up to now," when he saw Storm running toward him, her white gown billowing up to show ruffled lace pantallets and her straw bonnet blown off to drop down to the ground behind her unremarked. She cried out loudly, "Oh, you cannot possibly love a thin milksop like her, you cannot truly mean to marry her. You must admit you love me instead, and wish to marry me, immediately. We can elope together tonight, you and I, and no one will ever keep us apart..."
Turning away to flee in stumbling panic, Pete saw Cable standing just behind him, and realized in a flood of relief that Ororo was aiming for Nate and not for himself. Cable was talking to Domino, who looked lovely in a pale lavender gown, as she twirled a matching, flounced parasol above her head. Taking Domino's arm supportively, Cable stared coldly at Storm as he replied, "Whatever I might feel, I am promised to Miss Dom and you and I are too different to ever be happy together. She understands me as you never could. And your unbridled passions would wear me out. Marriage is best when like stays with like..."
As Storm stared after the departing couple with a stunned look on her face, Gambit swaggered up to her. "He no' wort' yo' love, Stormy, he no' be able t' appreciate you. You come be wi' ol' Gambit, neh? You 'n' me, we both t'ieves, we get rich, 'n' 'ave us a good ol' time t'geder." Ororo glared in turn at the tall Cajun, coolly elegant and sardonic despite his usual dishevelled state, and snapped, "You, sir, are no gentleman. You are a thief indeed, and a gambler and a scoundrel, and I do not welcome either your interest or your advances. For he is the noblest man I know, and I will have him some day, I will..."
LeBeau shrugged, sauntering away to join a card game in progress at one of the picnic tables, where he found comfort in the warm embrace of a blowsy Moira MacTaggert dressed as a flashy but tawdry brothel madam with her auburn hair dyed a flaming red. Left alone on the lawn, Ororo glared after the dwindling figures of Cable and Domino entering the mansion. As she did so, thunderclouds began to gather as the bright sunshine quickly disappeared. Even as the others all fled from the approaching storm to shelter from the rain, lightning bolts sizzled down and smashed into the mansion, turning it quickly into nothing but a pile of smoking rubble.
As the rain and thunder abated slightly, Wisdom saw Storm standing alone in the ruins of the Westchester mansion, now dressed in the ragged remains of the living room draperies which Pete remembered wanting to hide behind during that first night's formal dinner. She raised both arms to the sky as she declaimed, "The Goddess witness, I swear that the X-men shall rise again. And when it's all over, I'm never going to be hungry or poor again. Whatever it may take, even if I have to steal or kill, as the Goddess is my witness, I'm never going to be poor or hungry again... even if I have to go work for Belle Watling..."
Pete woke up again, his heart still pounding from that initial jolt of fear that Storm really had been after him. "Ok, Pryde, that's it... That's the last time I let you pick the films for a long long time. That romantic drivel you like to watch is turning my brains to mush..." Kitty turned over suddenly in her sleep, and pressed against him, wrapping her arms around his back and entwining her legs with his. As he tucked her head comfortably under his chin and buried his face in her hair again, Wisdom relented. "Oh, alright, then, you can watch any bloody film you want, love... I'll just watch you instead, I can do that forever..." And he felt her warm breath tickling his chest gently as he fell asleep again.
Wisdom found himself standing in an enormous, colorful circus tent, psychedelic strobe lights stabbing intermittently at the traditional three rings while one small spotlight lit up the ringmaster and announcer, Moira MacTaggert in elaborate burgundy plaid tuxedo and black silk tophat.
"An' now, high oop in th' air above ring one, the inimitable Kurt Wagner, acrobat an' gymnast extraordinaire, an' his life-long partner, the flying witch Amanda... Herr Wagner will attempt to perform the incredible never-before-done quadruple somersault in mid-air, without a safety net, whilst his ladylove levitates herself to catch him after he completes four full revolutions." Moira's overconfident tone faltered a bit. "Oops... Looks like her fingers were a wee tied up wi' the levitation spell..." Pete winced at the stink of sulfur and brimstone as Kurt bamfed to safety just before hitting the ground.
As the wildly swinging strobe lights mercifully moved over, leaving the scarlet-faced witch hanging above ring one in comforting darkness, Moira's announcement went on, "An', in ring three, the fearless human cannonball, Sam Guthrie, will be shot oot o' the mouth of an Atlas missile silo at mach ten intae a ballistic trajectory, circling the globe twice o'er before landing in the small tub o' water next to the missile silo cover in the center of the ring..." As a huge cloud of acrid grey smoke exploded from the ring, Wisdom heard a tremendous roar of rushing air followed a moment later by Moira's sheepish "Oops... Mayhap 'twere a wee miscalculation there," as Sam reappeared through the tent doors with another boom of displaced air to plow face-first into the hardpacked earth a foot from his intended target.
The swinging searchlights left the crater the human Cannonball had made in the ring to move upwards, illuminating a tightrope stretched across the lofty roof of the circus tent, and a figure standing in the middle of that taut expanse of rope. Pete vaguely recognized Shatterstar, whom he'd not paid much attention to so far, although even Shatterstar's teammates would have been hard-pressed to recognize the fierce warrior now dressed in a hot-pink, skin-tight leotard covered with sparkling sequins, under a short, starched-stiff purple tulle tutu skirt. He still had his swords, holding one in each hand, outstretched to the sides to help him balance on the rope. "Cast ye eyes up tae th' heavens, all, far aboove th' ground, another brave young man defies both death an' gravity tae walk across all three rings on a thin wee strand... Oops..." As the moving spotlights hit and blinded him, Shatterstar waved his arms around in a desperate effort to stay upright as the tightrope began swaying, and one of the flailing swords caught and cut the line. The lights followed his fall until he landed directly atop a dusty Sam Guthrie just now rising from his impact crater, while Wisdom was forced to dodge quickly as one of the two swords fell mere inches from his head.
Then Pete heard a deep-throated roar from the center ring as the spotlights shifted there, sounding different from the hectic roar of the crowd. "An' now, fur yuir entertainment, in the center ring, our own intrepid Captain Britain the lion tamer will put his head intae the jaws of death, directly within the lion's mouth..." Wisdom watched in honest awe as Braddock calmly put his head within the jaws of an enormous lion. Then the lion's teeth and jaws snapped shut suddenly on Brian's conceited expression, as Moira the ringmaster said "Oops..." yet again, just as Pete recognized a morphed Meggan winking at him from the lion's face.
Pete woke up with a wide grin plastered on his face at the memory of that last dream scene. "About bloody time that nice little Meggan stood up f'r herself with that overbearin' wanker o' hers, always bitin' off more 'n he can chew. Wonder if I could talk 'er into actin' out that bit for real..." Next to him, Kitty stirred restlessly, turning over once again to curl back up in her usual sleeping position, wriggling backward slightly until she lay snugly against him. As Pete wrapped his arms around her to hold her body even closer, he was startled to see Lockheed's eyes glowing at him from over Kitty's shoulder where the little dragon had pulled himself up onto the edge of the bed to growl jealously at Kitty's new pet, "Ya wake up my Kit, ya stoopid git, I'll 'ave ya f'r breakfast." As Lockheed returned to the nest he'd made in Wisdom's discarded clothes lying on the floor, Pete fumed inwardly. He knew better than to wake Kitty up and claim her dragon had been talking to him again; if he did, the best he could hope for was that she'd say he'd dreamed it. Wondering why Lockheed would never talk in front of anyone else, Pete dozed off again while plotting half a dozen wild schemes to fool his rival into speaking in front of witnesses.
Wisdom found himself standing in the deep shadow thrown by a tall building so wide that it looked squat despite its height. Looking around, he saw many more such blocks stretching as far as the eye could see. He recognized Mega-City One, a dark and gritty urban jungle in a future where pollution and crime had run rampant, where food and all other items, big and small, necessities and luxuries alike, were scarce and rationed, leading inevitably to looting, rioting, hoarding and black-marketeering. The last vestiges of modern civilization were maintained only by the concerted efforts of the Judges, fighting a rear-guard action to defend the Law against a growing tide of corruption and decay.
A small group of such Judges was approaching, sweeping through the neighbourhood in a systematic search, some on foot, others mounted on their cycles, the elaborate gold trim on their black uniforms gleaming faintly in the gloom. Wisdom recognized the grim-faced leader as Banshee, from photos scattered around Muir and from calls to Moira, as the Judge stopped his cycle nearby and removed his helmet to demand of his forces, "Any sign, yet?"
Just as the lieutenant was replying, "No, sir, sorry, Judge, sir," with fear and trepidation in his tone, Pete heard a muted roar behind him and was knocked to the pavement by a slavering monster rushing out of the shadowed alley to attack the mustered Judges. The creature was huge, and covered with long reddish-brown fur. Big tufted ears were flattened back against its skull in rage and long white fangs were visible in its bared jaws. Several Judges went down under the fury of its sudden attack, as the others scattered in flustered panic, but Judge Banshee opened his mouth, and aimed and yelled with no sign of fear or perturbation as the apparition turned on him with a snarl.
The werewolf fell to the ground as if poleaxed, where it lay huddled and still on the pavement. As Judge Banshee came closer, Wisdom was surprised to see his cycle following along behind him like an obedient dog heeling, with nobody at the controls. The Judge and his cycle both stopped right next to the sad little heap and Pete recognized Douglock's voice coming from the cycle to ask curiously, "You considered it a proper and required response, to terminate this apparently unique life form both as punishment for attacks made to date and in effort to prevent future attacks?"
Banshee looked at his cycle sternly, and replied in a lecturer's tone, "A Judge does nae execute criminals, a Judge's job is tae bring in perps alive, to serve their duly-appointed time in an Iso-Cube." A loud snore from the sleeping werewolf made the rest of his explanation moot, as he continued, "I used a trank shout..."
Another cycle roared up and Wisdom saw Moira MacTaggert in assistant Judge's uniform dismounting, carrying a large medical satchel. She ran over to Banshee, shouting, "She be innocent, merely another victim o' the villainous Reverend Craig's evil research experiments. We caught him, th' other Judges an' me, whilst ye were chasin' after her, an' we destroyed his lab, but I found the cure fur her, I ha'e it here wi' me..."
Moira pulled out an enormous thermos from her medical bag and began pouring gallons of liquid down the werewolf's throat as the Douglock cycle watched in fascination and bubbled over with questions. Pete recognized the disgusting odor of Moira's infamous coffee wafting out into the air to increase its pollution manyfold just as the werewolf woke up coughing and choking, trying to throw the medicine back up as it transformed back into the huddled figure of a naked young girl on the ground at their feet.
Pete pulled off his jacket and squeezed past the arguing twosome to wrap it around the shivering and crying Rahne, with both Moira and Banshee ignoring him as they continued debating her fate. Banshee kept insisting that the girl had to be incarcerated in order to pay for her many crimes, because "Nobody can escape the Law." Moira glared back as she shouted, "O'er muh dead body will ye subject that puir wee bairn tae th' horrors o' that hag witch Emma Frost's Iso-Cube prison establishment!"
Pete woke again. He was getting really disgusted with this whole night. "Great, it's not bad enough I got that overgrown Robbie the Robot to watch out for, an' all Kitty's so-called friends an' family to worry about, now even me innocent little childhood vices are coming back to haunt me too? Friggin' Yanks ruinin' everythin' they meddle with, lettin' some soddin' stuffed punch-drunk fighter pretend t' be my boyhood idol..." Just as he was happily settling down to reciting a long list of all the things he hated about the States as an enjoyable substitute for counting sheep, Kitty stirred in his arms, and he abruptly remembered that despite all the mad Americans' uncountable faults they had given him one wonderful gift that had changed his whole life. With a tender smile on his face, Pete started silently reciting the long list of all the things he loved about Kitty instead, which quickly lulled him back to sleep.
Wisdom was in a lab, tied down naked to a table, held there by wide straps across his wrists and ankles, hips and chest, neck and forehead. He had to squint his eyes, trying to see his surroundings beyond the glare of the shiny white metallic walls, even as the strong smell of astringent antiseptic typical of hospital corridors assailed his nostrils. He could hear assorted chittering and gibbering sounds somewhere in the background, coming from banks of cages lining the walls.
He felt an odd breeze wafting across his head. "What the bloody hell is awful fresh air doin' blowin' over the insides of me eyeballs and the back o' my nose?" he wondered groggily. Suddenly, Pete somehow knew, even without being able to see, that the top of his head had been lifted open.
Managing to turn his head sidewise in the restraints, he could see an enormous blue furball with sharp fangs and granny glasses puttering around in a long white labcoat while muttering to himself. His lab assistant, a stern but sexy Betsy Braddock, wearing horn-rimmed glasses and with her long purple hair styled up in a formal chignon, dressed in a short white lab coat open to show her delicate mauve silk teddy with rich purple lace trim underneath the mini-coat, followed Beast around, picking up anything that the absent-minded doctor had dropped or knocked over. "Where is...?" Betsy replied, "Here, doctor," and handed him the beaker of reagent he'd been looking for. Knowing what he wanted without Beast having to bother actually marshalling his myriad fragmented thoughts sufficiently to ask for it out loud obviously saved a lot of his valuable time.
This went on for a while, Beast mumbling, "Ah, yes, and where is...?" and Betsy providing the needed clipboards, petri dishes, and sundry other laboratory paraphernalia with a cool and collected, "Right here, sir..." until Beast asked, "And where did I happen to put his brain, my dear? For I would estimate that this is an appropriate time at which to replace that vital organ now that my unique and soon-to-be-patented internal ventilation procedure has provided his pathetically mistreated innards the potential to air out all that noxious tobacco and alcohol..."
"I don't know, sir, I didn't notice where you put it," Betsy replied calmly, although Pete could clearly see her holding his brain, pickled in a jar of formaldehyde, out of Beast's view behind her back.
As Beast moved away out of his limited sight, Wisdom saw Betsy trip over the janitor's broom being wielded by a grumbling Moira MacTaggert in olive-drab dungarees, dropping the jar holding his brain to smash on the floor, to have Moira sweep it up and away with the rest of the trash.
Pete stirred again. "An' I can't even get that flamin' mad at Betsy for what she did, pokin' an' pryin' in me mind... She did it for Pryde, 'cos she cares... an' she really helped Pryde way back when... I thought she was just another toffy-nosed blueblood, but she ain't nowhere near as snotty as that wanker of a brother, even if she does run around with her butt hangin' out..." Pete reached out to brush Kitty's hair back off her face, keeping his touch feather-light so as not to wake her, then nuzzled and lipped at her ear gently, smiling fondly as her hand swatted at him in her sleep, even as she shifted her body to press more tightly against his in their spooned position, her buttocks a warm haven for his manhood as he drifted off yet again.
Wisdom suddenly found himself standing on a dais in the middle of the grand hall of a donjon which looked much more like an overdecorated French gingerbread chateau than a proper grim and gloomy English medieval castle.
Looking down, he saw Kitty groveling at his feet. She was dressed as a simple peasant girl, in a bright blue dirndl over a white blouse whose low neckline trimmed with delicate lacework showed off her shoulders and cleavage nicely, her Star-of-David just visible hanging down between her small but perfect breasts. Clutching at his feet, she was sobbing piteously, "Oh, please, my lord, I beg you... Do not punish my aged and doddering father for his accidental transgression."
Hating the cringing fear that seemed to be tormenting her, Pete tried to drag her back up to her feet, but his hands couldn't seem to get a grip on her. Trying to get her up so he could hug and comfort her, he couldn't figure out what she might be talking about. He wondered for a moment if she'd heard something about her father being in trouble with crooks again that she hadn't told him yet, a possibility he knew had been worrying her for quite a while. But she flinched back from his touch, crying out "He didn't mean to take your roses, my lord. He didn't know the penalty. He just wanted to bring me a present. Please don't hurt him, my lord. I'll do anything, anything at all, to save him from your wrath..."
Following her gaze out the high mullioned window, Pete saw a pensive Logan wandering around outside in his magic garden, smelling the roses and using his claws to gather himself an enormous bouquet. "All right, girl, I'll let your father go..." Pete heard himself growling, "...but only if you promise you'll stay with me. That's my price for his freedom." He still had no real good idea what was going on, but anything that got him Kitty was fine by him.
"Anything, kind sir... anything you want from me, as long as he is free and safe..." She finally let Wisdom pull her up to her feet, smiling back at him brilliantly once she was sure she'd gotten her way.
As Pete drew Kitty into his arms for a kiss, the door of the castle burst open at a thunderous blow. A mob of furious X-Men stormed into his audience room, led by a hulking young man, black-haired and scowling. Like Kitty, he was also dressed in peasant garb but, in addition, he was covered with large, rusty and mismatched bits of armor. Approaching the central dais where Pete stood kissing Kitty, the intruder thundered out, "Unhand her, you knave!" as he rushed at Wisdom with murder in his heart, his clenched fist drawn back to deliver a pre-emptive strike.
Seeing the enormous young villein approaching, Kitty threw herself in front of Pete protectively, exclaiming, "No, don't, my heart is his now, not yours, no matter how horrible his appearance and manners..."
Pete shot straight up in bed, shocked awake by the vision of that huge steel fist coming at him, then just sat there shuddering. His sudden sharp motion had finally awakened Kitty also. She turned over to see him sitting up, his eyes wide and dilated, his trembling hand automatically groping for the drink he'd left unfinished on the nightstand. Seeing him drain the entire thing in a few large and fast gulps, she propped herself up on an elbow, and reached her hand out to him in sudden concern. "Pete? Are you all right?"
"Yeah, 'm ok, love..." Wisdom mumbled. "Just a bad dream..."
"Come here..." She pulled him to her, to lie with his head cradled in the valley between her breasts as she wrapped one arm around him tightly, entwining her legs with his, kissing the top of his head while stroking his face with her other hand gently, then running her fingers through his unruly black hair as he nuzzled his face into her soft skin. "It's all right, Pete, everything's all right, I'm here..."
As his shaking subsided and his racing heartbeat gradually slowed at her gentle touch, Pete thought to himself smugly, "But the beast did end up keeping Beauty, Rasputin, so put that in your pipe and smoke it..." As he fell asleep with a smile on his face, he mumbled "Beauty, your old man can have all the roses he wants...", leaving Kitty baffled but amused.
Continued in Part 2 Plans for the Day