Xi’an Coy Manh had believed a lot of things in her life. She had been betrayed by almost all of the institutions she had put her faith in – it was a sense of caution that now rested heavily with the Vietnamese woman. It wasn’t particularly cold but she still watched the people rushing past the window of the nearest coffee shop with their thick coats and woollen gloves. Autumn was a time of year that had often eased the tension of the young woman. It was as tranquil but not as hectic as Christmas, and she had never been a fan of the heat. Summer was for those interested in lying across a beach all day. Xi’an’s memories of beaches where all tarnished with the feelings of what she had went through, what she had been forced into doing – every step she had taken into becoming the woman she was now. The breakdown was every bit as forceful in her dreams as the recovery had been. Her eyes fell onto the sweet, rounded faces of Leong and Nga as she made an oath to protect them.
It was only in her dreams that she had been protected.
Tran had once tried unsuccessfully to protect her. Xi’an could never blame him for what he became. If her memories of that night where so vivid then she could only imagine he had been plagued by them. Staring absently into the distance, Xi’an never noticed how Luna stood watching her. It was a mix of astonishment and concern. Being lost in her own world was nothing new to the mutant, she had been a heroine but she would use the term loosely. It was hard to take credit for the feats of her friends, Xi’an remembered all-too clearly that she had normally just been present or in need of saving. Luna’s rattle of the coffee dragged her friend back into reality. Since moving back to New York and finding her feet in the city again, Xi’an was drawn back to the Grindstone. It had been a haven for almost every student in Xavier’s school from one point in another. Some came to hide and others came to convene, Xi’an had come to be found.
Luna wrinkled her nose. “So are we on for that movie or not? I hear it’s really, really sad.”
“Just what the world needs,” Xi’an joked, placing some of her dark locks behind her ear. The coffeehouse owner was her reprieve from the daily routine of the X-Corps International offices that had become her home. It was nice to have a friend on the outside, even if she couldn’t honestly explain who she was. Xi’an had never told Luna of her abilities. “Doom and gloom is overrated.”
“Love stories will never be overrated,” replied Luna, her eyes still on the newspaper review. “I mean look! It practically promises a happy ended.” No matter how much of an effort she made, Luna always looked as if she was running on empty. Light circles formed under her arms reminiscent of a panda and her hair often fell in awkward angles. Still, she was exotic in her own way. She had a natural ability to comfort those around her, and in many ways she was like Xi’an – maternal.
Xi’an smiled. “Fine, we can see it. I’d still much rather see the spy one though.” Agreeing was the easiest part of an X-Man making plans. Something could always crop up and it was hard to say no to saving the world from yet another menace because you had plans. Not much compared on the grand scale of priorities.
“You were saying things were hard with your roommates?” Her friend said. She had never questioned any of the distorted truths she had been told. Luna’s trust was unfaltering; she was always the first to give someone a chance. Xi’an was like yet another stray she would have collected. The DePaula household was raining cats and dogs – Xi’an wished she could say she was exaggerating. “One of the old ones came back or something?”
Xi’an nodded. “She was gone for quite some time. Not everyone is pleased.”
“She was dead–”
“Nga is confused. Illyana was back in her own country for a long time. I suppose to some, Russia would seem like death,” joked Xi’an as she refrained from giving her little sister a stern look. Ruffling through her purse she pulled out money, but Luna’s glare forced her to put the money back. Xi’an waited until Luna had sent the children to the counter for a treat before she continued. “They were very young when Illyana disappeared, and we had no idea what had happened. It was easier to explain it that way.”
“What did happen?”
“She hasn’t said. It’s part of where the frustration is coming from. I think Sam and Amara are planning to get some answers.”
“I can imagine. She just up and left without a word. It’s very unfair to you all. I mean, you’ve all known each other for so long...”
Xi’an shrugged indecisively. “She may have had her reasons.”
“Even then Xi’an, I understand why some of your friends are hurt. Her reasons are only justifiable to a certain extent, then you have to wonder if she was stringing you along–” Luna took a pause for a moment before continuing. “If she is still stringing you guys along. Things can’t just go back to the way they were, not for everyone.”
“Things with Yana were never easy but it’s been taking to another level entirely. Amara refuses to trust a word she says,” continued the Vietnamese heroine, her long lashes flicking towards her younger siblings as they ate at their cakes. “It’s not a very nice place to be at the moment and it’s not a great place to be raising those kids.”
“I can’t help you with the raising of the kids but I can help you get away from it all for a few hours. The movie is a great idea Xi’an,” smiled the proprietor as she patted her friend’s hand and moved back towards the delicatessen counter. “Sometimes you just have to let your friends work this out in their own way.”
Xi’an sipped at her coffee with a frown.
|
#3
DEC 11 |
 |
“Confrontation”
X-Corps International, New York
“You can’t just ostracise her. It’s not helping.”
“I don’t trust her.”
“It’s Yana. You have to get past this.”
Amara glowered at the Kentuckian, her arms crossed and her pout stiff. “Don’t tell me I have to remind you how we were attacked from the inside once already this year.” The memories of Cassandra Nova’s multiple attacks, in which some “reformed” and “heroic” members had turned on their cause, was still fresh in the Nova Roman’s mind. Sam’s worst trait had always been his ability to trust, and it was this trust that she found herself challenging. She wanted to be able to overlook what had happened but Illyana Rasputina had always only ever been a shadier member of the team at best.
Sam looked visibly uncomfortable.
“I understand, Guthrie. You want to trust her because you want to go back to those golden days of our youth,” drawled the former princess. “Those days are gone, we’ve all changed and nothings ever going to be that easy again. The acceptance we found with humanity is teetering on the brink of destruction, there’s a lot of distrust out there and I just don’t think we need to foolishly let anyone in.” Her eyes darkened. “Friend or not, Illyana owes us all an explanation. I know resurrection is as common as a morning coffee in New York around here but she needs to tell us the hows and the whys.”
“Don’t you think that’ll push her further away? We need to ease–”
“Sam, she’s had her shot to come clean but she hasn’t. Now we make her give us what we want, the hard way.”
Amara slipped into the interrogation room before Sam could as much as whisper. Realising the truth in her words as he was forced to follow her, Sam clearly saw that they had all been changed long before Nova’s attack or the tumultuous return of Magik. He folded his arms across the red plaid shirt he was wearing, matching with his faded jeans. Sam looked every bit as young and off-track as he had the last time they had all been gathered together. Not that they had all deemed banding together worth the hassle, they had lost Rahne Sinclair to her own ambition. Or, at least, that was how it seemed to them.
“Illyana–” he stumbled.
“Never mind I wouldn’t expect another altercation with Amara to be pleasant. I would have hoped my friends would have welcomed me back with open arms, but instead I’m treated like a prisoner,” the Russian mutant indicated to the enclosed room where she sat with glowering. It amazed them both how grown up she appeared, she looked as if she had finally aged somewhat more naturally than Belasco had previously allowed her to. Her thick fringe shielded her cold eyes but the attitude was clear on the upper lip of her pout. “Guantanamo Bay has nothing on you people. I begin to wonder why I ever left the Ust-Ordynski Collective, I was loved there.”
Sam was easily taken in by the sorrow that he saw in her eyes. Amara was less so, and she demanded with her physicality that he stood in support. The woman who was every bit as fiery as her powerset would normally prescribe refused to be taken under by the girlish manipulations she had once bought into. Illyana had once been one of their closest friends but that hadn’t always been the case, and she had been dead for more than a few years. Magik was predominantly seen as a hero but not on such a grand scale. Her other aliases had done less to inspire those feelings. Darkchilde had been a particularly dangerous period in their lives, it was the first time she had actually betrayed them.
“You turned against us on more than one occasion, every time you needed to serve your own needs. We have lost good people. Honest to God, good people who died for a fight they believed in and then there was you. Illyana, martyred without cause. The infantile mutant sorceress struck from her perch by a deadly virus. The Illyana I knew was once kind and sweet but whatever happened to her Limbo? That changed her in more ways. She came back to us once; we let her and look at what that did to us. Friendships are hanging by a thread all read, the world has gone to shit and suddenly your back. You’ve done too much already. I doubt even Piotr would want to see you.”
“It wasn’t me.”
“Yana,” Sam interrupted. “We know you. We saw you, felt you.”
“I know the history you speak. But I have never died. For that, I would have to have escaped from Limbo and Belasco would never have allowed it. Nothing dies in Limbo. It just continues to rot until nothing is left but the echo of hatred it once felt. Forgive me if I appear distant, I no longer know you.”
Amara was silenced.
“It’s weird seeing him like this.”
Roberto da Costa tended to have the reputation as someone frivolous, cold and uncaring behind his wealth if not a little impulsive. He was the brawn of the New Mutants activities, and he had taken every step to where he now was in aid of maturing, he wanted to be someone who had earned the respect of his closest friends – or former friends in the case of some. Tensions were higher than ever in the group since the return of Illyana but things had been off for a longer time than that. His friendship with Sam and a kinship they had once bore now lay wasted under the destructive aftermath of Roberto’s libido and the thankless Tabitha Smith – Meltdown – who had swiftly disappeared. Still, his hand rested on the techno organic alien’s in a show of friendship. Douglas Ramsey was dead or he would have been at Warlock’s bedside – it was the least Roberto could do for a fallen friend and the unconscious alien.
“If Doug were–”
“He isn’t,” responded the Native American Danielle Moonstar curtly as she stood restlessly over the shoulder of her Brazilian teammate, her walnut eyes narrowed and focused on the technarch that lay before them. Warlock wasn’t much of a friend, more of a nuisance but she definitely saw potential in him. Chewing on her lower lip she remembered what she had seen the alien do over the course of his lifetime with them and she related his uselessness to every atrocity that she had witnessed. Using the Technarch’s abilities, they could have stopped so much or added the element of surprise to their defences. Nova would never have gotten so close to annihilating them.
Dani had recently begun to consider the leadership and strategies of the X-Men. She had even begun to view Sam’s contribution as obsolete. She had yet to see the Kentuckian do anything of merit since the team had reformed, and enough personal and judicial dramas had arisen in the time lapsed. Her long fingers traced along the braid of hair at her breast. Dani’s defensive powerset had always left her sidelined in the eyes of many of the X-Men’s greatest. Illusions weren’t much use in a battle field, especially since so many minds would be hard to capture at once. She was considered weak like Xi’an was but no one would ever agree with her if she were to say it. Recently she had begun to make herself more proactive, since the loss of her quantum powers she had needed something extra and she had dedicated herself to archery. Guns seemed more logical, even knives but Dani preferred the poetry of archery. Battles had once been won with the weapon.
Warlock was yet another weapon she wanted to add to her arsenal. It disgusted her how much Roberto overcompensated for his prior lack of interest but as a woman, she sympathised with his newfound compassion. It seemed like he was finally growing up and becoming more than his millions had allowed him to be. Dani’s gaze slipped towards the room’s long window looking over New York and her lips parted slightly as she noticed it – snow.
New York City, New York
Xi’an tightened the tope scarf around her neck as she moved through the busy Manhattan streets, it was busier than she was used to but seeing that one face in the crowd was enough to lift her spirit. Leong and Nga had been left in the care of the auxiliary staff as she found herself unable to trust her warring friends, each less trusting than the next after the mysterious return of the mutant sorceress they had all loved and lost. Xi’an was the eldest and only wished the melodrama and suspicion would slowly die away into nothingness so that they could move on and fulfil their duties as heroes. It did little more than push her away, she desperately craved normalcy and she wanted it for Leong and Nga because their lives were quickly becoming just as traumatic as her own.
It couldn’t be like that.
“Hey stranger,” called the mutant as she came to a stop, offering a cheeky wink. “People will start to talk if we meet much more.”
Luna’s face pulled close and Xi’an felt their lips connect, hesitantly she allowed her hands to catch the woman by the waist and she found some peace in the storm that had become her life since the death of her parents. Luna was a saving grace but Xi’an knew better than most that happiness never lasted but the snow was a nice touch.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
To Be Continued...
Next: In New Mutants #4: Warlock awakes, and Karma loses control.
Previous Issue | Next Issue