From owner-x-writers@minuteman.com Tue Jun 04 18:30:03 1996 X-Writers is a non-profit fan-fiction group using characters copyright to Marvel Entertainments. We're nice and sweet and kind, please don't hurt us. ------------------------ Excalibur #98 "Braveheart" Writer: Lady Amethyst Edited by Andrew Wheeler ------------------------ Muir Island: "So when 'Yana... died... it was the last straw I guess. He burnt all his sketches, all his paintings. All except that one." She gestured to the portrait of a young girl with blonde hair that hung on her wall. "For some reason that hurts as much as anything else that happened. They were so beautiful, so much a part of him and of the history of the X-Men, and now they're gone..." She paused a moment and Pete ran his hand up her arm in a gesture of comfort. "At the funeral he turned on the Professor. Blamed him for her death... and then Magneto appeared. There was a fight... there's always a fight," she sighed. "Peter stopped them from killing Magneto and he left us." Kitty twirled Pete's hair around her fingers as he rested against her. "Professor Xavier called me in a while later and said that he had some sort of brain damage. I agreed to... lie to him... to get him to Muir so they could try and fix it. It was a mistake. I mean he did need our help but there must have been a better way to go about it. I think in a way I was still angry at him... for dumping me... for going with Magneto. But it's too late now. I don't think we'll ever be as close as we were before, too much has happened." She blew hair out of her eyes. "Too much is always happening. Why does so much keep happening?" "Fucked if I know." She hit him lightly, "That was a rhetorical question dummy." She turned his head to her so she could look at him. "Anyway, that's the story of me and Peter Rasputin. So are you going to tell me what the hell happened to you in London or not?" Pete sat up and perched on the edge of the bed in silence. He reached for his pack of cigarettes and began to twirl one, unlit, in his fingers. 'No smoking in the damn bedroom,' he thought. 'Bloody hell.' "Well? Pete?" Kitty crawled over to sit behind him. "If you don't tell me I'm going to assume you were seeing someone else and then I'll have to sulk." "There isn't much to tell," he lied. "Tried to help a mate of mine out of a bad situation, failed. End of story." "What do you mean you failed?" 'Oh great,' he thought. 'Bang goes my heroic image. See what you've done now Matt?' He tried to smile at the thought but he couldn't. Instead he explained himself, bluntly, "Failed as in he's dead. All right?" "Oh... I'm sorry." She started to draw away, upset at his inability to talk to her, but then changed her mind. "It's just that, well, we ought to talk about stuff like that. I mean, it'll help. Won't it?" she blurted out. He sighed and turned around again to take her hands. As he spoke he ran his fingers over the backs of them as if searching for something. "The thing is, I don't really remember everything that happened. Matt got mixed up in some dangerous stuff and I got him out, but there was still something wrong and he was dying. This bloke, Constantine..." he looked up to see if she knew who he was talking about and she nodded. "... he tried to help and I went to get the thing he needed to cure Matt and I couldn't do it. I don't remember what happened." Every time he tried to approach that memory, whether in thought or in words, he saw a blackness. Felt a sickness in his gut and his vision blurred just for a second. John was right, he didn't want to know. Not now, maybe not ever. "So Matt died." He finally looked up at her, "But I'm okay, I mean it hurts like hell but I did what I could and it wasn't enough and that's just the way it is sometimes." He stroked her cheek and she pulled him into her arms. 'It's okay,' he thought burying his face in her hair. 'It's really okay.' ------------------ En route to Glasgow: "Do you think I'll like the film?" asked Meggan earnestly. "Moira said I wouldn't like it cause it really happened. Did it really happen?" "Uv course it bloody did," answered Moira. Brian snorted. "Just whit are you insinuating Mr Upperclass Englishmun?" she demanded. Pete rolled his eyes, here she went again. Brian might not be the best company in the world but he had to feel some sympathy for a fellow Englishman when she started. Kitty interceded. "Why don't we just reserve judgement on how historically accurate it is till _after_ the film?" 'Long after the film,' thought Pete. It was supposed to be a double date; him and Kitty, Brian and Meggan; till Moira got a wind of what they were going to see. Wild Shetland ponies couldn't have kept her from accompanying them. They'd decided not to bother going out to dinner afterwards. Moira at her most ornery, as she undoubtably would be after seeing the film that succeeded in provoking a nation to such fervour that it possesed a young mutant girl and incited her to tear Scotland and England apart in a roar of foaming waves and falling rocks, in a group with two Englishmen and an American wasn't really wise. In fact it was downright frightening. ------------------------------ Near Stornoway on the Isle of Lewis: Amanda walked the beach in silence, the wind blowing her hair into her eyes. She'd left Kurt alone in their new home feeling hurt that he couldn't help her. That she wouldn't tell him why she was upset. But she had good reason not to tell him. She knew Kurt, better than anyone. His solution to her problem would be to head off into the unknown and deal with it. Deal with it and get himself killed, he had even less of a chance against her mother than she did. Whatever happened she would not involve him. She sat down on a rock and wrapped her jacket around herself. She felt it before she saw it this time. But then the presence was much stronger this time, more powerful. Water swirled and she appeared. The Lady of the Lake. Amanda scowled, unsurprised. "Aren't you supposed to be freshwater only?" she asked sarcastically. The woman frowned but ignored her comment. "I presume you know why I am here?" "I presume." "I didn't want to have to do this Amanda," the woman said, looking annoyed. "But this is your task, your mistake. You must fix it." "I know, I was going to..." "You must fix it now! Not tomorrow, not next week. Now! This will not wait, the spell is almost complete, can you not feel it?" "I... yes. It's just... I'm afraid." "Of what Amanda?" the Lady of the Lake asked more kindly. "That only one of us is going to make it out of this alive," whispered Amanda. ------ Braddock Manor: The three of them sat around the dinner table, deep in discussion. "Are you sure it was her?" "Of course I'm sure, I ought to know my own team-mate. It was Karma alright, I'd bet my life on it." "So what are you going to do?" "Well I think we should ask her to join us." Amara looked at Feron hopefully. "I don't really see the point," he said finally. "Being a superhero team was a stupid idea, Excalibur get all the headlines. It's so..." "DON'T say it!" interupted Amara. "And it wasn't a stupid idea and I'm going to get Xian from London to join us whether you like it or not. I don't know why I asked you in the first place, it's not like you own the house or anything." She left, grabbing her coat and the car keys on the way out. Tom Jones, Alchemy, watched her go with a silly grin on his face. "Oh for crying out loud," said Feron as he levitated out of the room. "Must you be so pathetic?" Tom looked after him, startled at the unusual outburst. Since he'd come to stay here the best word to describe Feron had been apathetic. Him actually showing an emotion other than depression was quite a step. Mind you he did seem to have a handle on being bitter too. He was building up quite the repertoire. Once they had four members they'd really be a superhero team, Tom thought. Three just didn't cut it, especially when one of the three was never paying any attention. At this rate they were really going to have to come up with a name. Something snazzy, something eye-catching. But they still had to answer the big question, X or no X? And he'd thought the being heroic bit was going to be difficult, he still had to come up with a costume as well. Feron had his green monk look, Amara still had her old New Mutants costume, a good thing too as it was the only thing that didn't get incinerated when she changed to her molten form. Unstable molecules, she'd said, as if he was supposed to know what that meant. He'd tried sensing the molecules but all it had gotten him was a headache. She'd taken the X off it though. He felt silly running around in a t-shirt and jeans next to them. ------- Glasgow: They had left the Midnight Runner cloaked in a building site near Buchanan Street and were heading back there in stony silence. Taking two Englishmen to see Braveheart at one of the busiest cinemas in Glasgow hadn't been such a good idea. At the end of the film there had been a standing ovation and they had found themselves surrounded by cheering Scots with tears of anger in their eyes, Moira included. Kitty had turned to Pete and hissed at him, "Don't say anything!" He had started to ask why but she'd put her hand over his mouth, "They'll tear you apart you moron. Look at them." He looked at them. He had to get out of here. It was like a thousand clones of McTaggart after too much of her coffee. They'd escaped without incident but then Brian had said it. "Don't you think it's strange that an Australian using American money and Irish scenery can get so many Scots so worked up. Especially since it wasn't even that historically accurate. I mean that oppressed minority thing is so in fashion these days." Moira was walking five feet ahead of the rest of them with her fists clenched when they heard a commotion a few streets down. Heading towards it they were confronted by an interesting sight. In the centre of George Square stood a man of about twenty wearing a kilt, Doc Martins and a leather jerkin. He was brandishing a broad sword and had a bit of tartan material with eyeholes cut out of it tied around his head. "I am Captain Scotland!" he shouted. "Can ye fly?" shouted out a teenaged girl. He looked annoyed and ignored the question. "F'r too long huv the Scots relied on English heroes. Captain Britain... whit did he ever know about our lives. An upper class English twat wi' his heed in the clouds! Ah'm one o' you, part o' the Scottish tradition. An' tigether we cun drive oot the English an' be oor own country again. Fight fur whit we want an tae hell wi' the English!" "This is ridiculous," said Brian. "Look who's talking," answered Pete with a grin. "Mr. Union Jack himself." "I had a responsibility, a position of authority to withold..." Brian began sternly. "This yob is simply trying to incite a riot." "Away an' stick it up yer jacksee Brian," said Moira. "Ah think he's kinda cute. He ought tae watch that wind though wearin' that kilt an aw... oops, too late." The man grabbed at his kilt as the wind threw it up and nearly cut off his foot with the broadsword. "Shite!" he bellowed as the crowd behind him discovered Captain Scotland was indeed a true Scotsman. The scene was vaguely reminiscent of that famous Marilyn Monroe picture. He got his wayward clothing under control again and wondered what to say now, he rather felt the moment had been broken. He was of course right. The crowd began to disperse, the majority having classed him as a drunk. They weren't far off the mark. "Do you think we should talk to him?" asked Kitty. "What for?" Brian seemed nonplussed at the question. "Well, maybe he's a mutant." "So what if he is?" "Well maybe he could do with a bit of help." Brian sighed, "Talk to him if you want then, just try to remember that we're not Xaviers School For Gifted Youngsters." At this Moira had had enough, "Oh, _we_ arnae are _we_. An' just when did ah gi' ye half ownership o' _my_ research facility?" She stomped over to 'Captain Scotland' who was sitting dejectedly on a bench. "Excuse me, are ye a mutant by any chance?" 'Oh, way to be subtle Moira,' thought Kitty. The man looked up suspiciously, "Why shud ah tell you?" "Because," said Moira with a big grin. "That big blonde sassenach over there is Captain Britain, an' if ye'll punch him out fur me ah'll gi' ye a tenner." "Moira!" said Meggan. Pete burst out into laughter. 'She might be an old witch sometimes but you've got to admit, she has style,' he thought to himself. 'Captain Scotland' stood up and peered at Brian through slightly untrustworthy vision. "Ye're Captain Britain then?" Brian stood up straighter, "That's right." "Bloody tosser." Captain Scotland took a swing, missed completely, and knocked himself out on a lamp post. Brian sighed, "And this is what's going to drive out the English. I hardly think so." Something snapped. "Ye two-faced, ex-alky, pompous, English, annoyin' arsehole!" Moira didn't miss. She'd never been more grateful for the extra kick her Legacy induced powers gave her. Brian joined Captain Scotland on the pavement. "Oh really!" exclaimed Meggan. She increased in size and threw a limp body casually over each shoulder like two mink stoles. "I think we better go." She set off for the Midnight Runner at a jog with Kitty and Pete at her heels. Moira followed at a more sedate pace with a self satisfied smile on her face. ------------------------------------------------------ Next month: The start of the Call To Darkness Trilogy. ------------------------------------------------------