![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Tommy, Fatale and Havok. Backdated - August 20, 2017
Two members of the Brotherhood pay Tommy a visit, and they find they have a lot of things in common.
The mall in Salem Center was your standard-issue small-town shopping center, but at least it had a decent food court. The tray in front of him was empty now except for a handful of wrappers and a cup of melting ice. Tommy stretched out his legs and propped his feet up on the chair opposite his, sliding down and slouching in his seat.
He blended right in with the local crowd now that he’d been able to ditch the Xavier-branded dork wardrobe, replacing the hand-me-downs with ripped jeans and some pretty good old band tees from the thrift store. The sunglasses that were currently shoved on to the top of his head weren’t exactly necessary, but they were a hell of a lot better than getting crap in his eyes when he was running. He’d even managed to load a decent amount of music on to the school-issue phone, and with one earbud in he could drown out much of the chatter and noise of the food court while still keeping generally aware of the world around him.
All told, even given everything that had gone on over the past few weeks, this particular afternoon was a decent one. Which meant that any minute now, something was bound to fuck it up.
As much as he felt it was the right thing to do, Alex was still pretty anxious about this whole thing. Magneto had, through is Brotherhood, pulled Pam and him out of a situation that probably would have ended with both of them dead, eventually. They owed him for that, and being out in Salem Center like this kinda felt like stabbing him in the back. On the other hand, they owed a bigger debt to the other survivors; they'd seen a lot of kids used and experimented on until even the remains were a meager shadow of their former selves. If this Pietro-lookalike had also managed to get out, then they needed to find him. If nothing else, they needed to know he wasn't in a situation as bad or worse as the one the Right had put him in.
That meant prowling around the town, whenever they had a free minute. And could get away from the others--Christ, they nagged like a half-dozen spinster aunts, sometimes. But they meant well, for the most part. Still, it was better none of them, and especially not Magneto, knew where they were or what they were doing just then. Alex could not imagine that would go ever well.
So there they were, in the food court of the local shopping center, surrounded by baselines and ... well, stuff. Alex's tray was piled high with Panda Express, and he picked over his Orange Chicken while studying the crowd. This was the stomping grounds of those kids that had run into Wanda and Pietro's group the other night. Chances were good the speedster would turn up in this vicinity eventually. Though this was their third day staking out the location, with nothing to show for it so far.
"See anything?" he asked the disconcertingly not-blue girl sitting next to him, around a mouthful of fountain soda.
"A shitload of idiot flatscans?" Pam replied. She was picking at the Bourbon Chicken she'd gotten from The Big Easy, more as an excuse to be sitting at the table with Alex than because she was actually hungry.
On principle, she agreed with Alex - they needed to check in on the Pietro look-alike. She'd stolen a peek at the files they'd brought back from the shithold, and the guy'd had a crap time of it. And had gotten himself out, which was one hell of an accomplishment. She kinda wanted to give the kid a pat on the back for that, and agreed that they had to make sure he hadn't frying pan to the fire'd it. On the flipside, she'd been jittery as hell ever since she'd found out just what mission the others had gone on, prone to looking over her shoulder and fiddling with her knives. The dickheads were like a hydra or something - cut off one head (or burn it down) and two more popped up. Which meant they were still out there.
She'd seriously hoped she'd killed them all. Knowing she hadn't - well, she hadn't been sleeping much the last week or so, either.
"Maybe we should just - no, hold it. He's over there," she said, indicating the direction with a barely perceptible jerk of her chin once a guy who could damn near give Blob competition moved his fat ass and stopped blocking that quarter of the food court. "Eileen's right - he looks even more like Pietro than he did on tv." She looked back to Alex and arched an eyebrow. "So, now what?"
"I ... honestly don't know," Alex admitted, trying not to stare as he pushed fried rice around on his plate with his fork. "I sort of thought this would take longer, and I'd have some idea what to do by the time we actually ran into the guy." There was no method he could come up with for making a first impression that wouldn't make them come across like they were selling something, just walking up to him and trying to make small talk out of nowhere. Maybe the best thing would be just to get it over with.
Taking a deep breath, he stood up from his chair and picked up his food-court tray of regulation brown plastic. "Let's go," he said, starting toward the silver-haired teen and trying to keep a firm hold on the knot of nervous energy building in his middle; they definitely didn't need another meltdown incident out here in public.
"Hey," he greeted lamely when they reached not-Pietro's table. "You mind sharing?" Alex's appetite had completely evaporated, by that point, but it was as good a pretext as any.
Tommy caught movement out of the corner of his eye - directed intentional movement, rather, not just the milling-around of crowds. He glanced up as the pair approached him, taking them in. Hot, that was one thing; the girl dressed a bit like Illyana, all crop tops and slink, and he could definitely appreciate that. The guy spoke first, and Tommy popped out his earbud.
He glanced around the food court, but yeah -- most of the tables were full. Tommy dropped his feet to the floor and nodded, pushing back his chair. "Sure." Something caught at him, though; maybe it was their expressions, maybe the nerves the guy was radiating like something was about to happen. If some town kids thought they were going to roll him, they were going to get a serious surprise. "I was gonna get moving anyway, so it's all yours."
Yeah, that was effective. Pam set her food down on the table, tossing Alex a "that was brilliant" look before plopping down in the adjacent chair. Fuck beating around. If the kid was as much like Pietro as he looked, he wouldn't have patience with it anyway.
"Actually, kinda wanted to talk to you," she said. She rested her arm on the table and leaned in towards him, in a way that would appear to any onlookers as if she were flirting. For the kid's benefit, though, she jerked her eyes towards her arm and let her illusion flicker, her arm turning blue for a split second and revealing an array of scars that she mostly kept concealed, even when she was wearing her own face. He was a speedster - it was more than long enough for him to look at and analyze, right? He'd know what they meant, considering the matching ones on his own. "We're not here to start shit. Just talk, and you can take off whenever. Deal?"
Alex didn't miss that look, and returned it with one that was definitely put-upon. He caught the flicker of blue at Pam's arm only because he was paying close attention, and watched for the other teen's reaction. He disconsolately speared an orange-ish chunk of chicken on the end of his fork, though he didn't bring it to his mouth. "You say that like we could stop him from leaving, either way." Because speedster--not really something either of them was equipped to handle, especially not in a setting like this. Especially when they were all trying to keep a low profile.
"But, yeah," he went on. "We really do need to talk. There aren't that many of us left." That, more quietly, and for once when Alex said "us", he wasn't talking about mutants. He was talking about survivors.
Tommy's attention was momentarily diverted when the hot girl leaned in, but the way she dropped the illusion dropped his expectations along those lines as well. This wasn't some weird threesome pickup attempt, it was real life intruding on his attempts to forget all about everything.
He revised his first impressions, too. They weren't looking to start trouble -- if they'd been in a situation like his, they were tense because they were expecting it. Fine. "He's not wrong," Tommy replied, cocking his eyebrow at the guy, but replying to her. "Since you apparently know me, you know that if you come at me you'll be eating dust."
It was also apparently a chance to get some information without someone trying to knock him on his ass at the same time. He'd managed to fuck things up at the facility, left knowing less about what was going on than when he'd gotten there. And if these guys were connected to the other kids they'd met there, maybe they'd be able to give him some answers. At least neither of them had tried to give him cramps again.
So he settled into the chair rather than vanish on them, keeping them both in his line of sight. He gave the guy a half-smile, reluctantly acknowledging what he was saying. "Until a few days ago, I thought I was the only one. Are you with those other bozos?"
"Hey, those other bozos are our teammates," Pam retorted, leaning back in her chair and offering a smirk. Casual. Keep it looking casual, and maybe it'd start feeling it, too, and her stomach would stop trying to rip itself to shreds. Fine, whatever, he could've gone if he wanted - that was the point she'd been trying to make, no one was even going to try to stop him. "Doesn't change the fact they're mostly idiots, but they're our idiots. Be nice, Tommy."
Alex looked like he wanted to protest that their teammates weren't idiots, exactly--at least, not all the time--but Pam was kinda probably not happy about him saying out loud stuff she already knew about them and their ability to detain speedsters, so it seemed safer just to keep his mouth shut, on that point.
Instead, he offered, "They're the ones that got us out; chances are, we'd both be dead right now, if it wasn't for them." He toyed with his fork a little more, then ventured, "Eileen's ... well, not sorry, exactly," apologies weren't really a thing Phantazia did, no matter how badly she fucked up, "but I think she would have liked to approach things a different way, in hindsight? For what it's worth."
'Eileen' had to be the flying blonde who'd zapped him. Tommy hesitated, then nodded. About a dozen different questions were crashing around in his head, maybe more than that -- how exactly had she zapped him? Who the hell was the Quicksilver guy? Why had they found these two and not Tommy? -- and he tried to push them aside. Focus on one thing at a time. (He'd never been good at that.)
He wanted... he wanted to be able to trust them. Unlike the kids at Xaviers, and assuming they were telling the truth, they'd know the how and what and why without him having to say anything. But their 'team' hadn't exactly gotten off on the best foot with his, and trusting was so not his strong suit.
"I'm guessing you're not Eileen," he said out loud, looking at the girl. "You're able to do your own talking. So if we're gonna have a conversation -- and since you already know my name -- how about some introductions first."
Pam's eyes darted to Alex for reassurance, found it there, and turned her attention back to Tommy. She was going to hate herself for this later, she knew. Fuck, she hated herself for it now. But - he was one of them. "You...you can call me Pam. But most don't, so keep your mouth shut? It's usually Fatale."
"I'm Alex," he said, "and I'd take her word for that? I mean, I've known her since forever, and I still have to call her Fatale, most of the time."
He shrugged, and poked at his Orange Chicken some more. "Look, we're not exactly supposed to be out here. But ... we wanted to ... check on you? I know it's lame, but still. We had to make sure you were okay."
And that caught Tommy off-guard. Not just that they actually gave him their names (or what he was supposed to believe was their names, anyway), but the unfamiliar sensation of someone reaching out. The last person who'd tried that had been Illyana, and that hadn't exactly gone according to plan.
He frowned at them, his brow furrowing. "Why? Your girl didn't hit me that hard."
Pam dug her nails into her palms, nearly hard enough to draw blood, trying to hold it together. Damn it, she should've let Alex come on his own – she couldn't fucking deal with this, and she was not going to keep turning to Alex for support like a fucking cheerleader. The kid (and fuck, she should probably stop thinking of him like that, he was the same age she was, if the files were right) was waiting for a reply, and she was going to have to give him one, wasn't she?
"Because...we've been there." She looked up and met Tommy's eyes. "We were the only ones left, until Eileen came back from the mission talking about the mini Quicksilver who'd actually gotten himself out of one of their shitholes. And we had to make sure you were okay."
"You got out of one hellhole," Alex added, "we wanted to know you hadn't ended up in another one." He hadn't missed Pam's growing anxiety, and he rested a hand reassuringly on her arm as naturally as he possibly could. Which probably meant it was still awkward as fuck, but whatever. Priorities. "And 'cause maybe it would help to know you weren't the only one to go through it and survive." Somehow. Maybe.
Alex was alright; Pam was still vibrating with stress, but at least she didn't seem ready to pop him one. And Tommy wasn't exactly super-relaxed right at the moment, either. The memories scrabbled at the back of his brain again, wanting to be let out, and he tried the wall exercise again, the one that was supposed to be good for blocking out telepaths. Maybe imagining bricking up his brain would keep the flashbacks away as well. It was a thought, anyway.
And he'd paused too long, long enough for even snails to notice the hesitation. "Thanks," he said awkwardly, the word unfamiliar on his tongue. "That's ... cool of you. And I'm okay, for now." How much did he say? How much was supposed to be super-secret, and how much was he allowed to reveal? And, more relevantly, how much did he care about either of those things?
"There's a school near here," Tommy compromised with himself, because honestly, that shit was easy enough to track down. "They're letting me board free. Perks of being a runaway," he added sarcastically. "But I'll be all right there until I figure out my next move. What about you?" he frowned, looking from one to the other.
"We're good." Pam had relaxed, a little, at the feeling of Alex's hand on her arm, though her eyes kept darting to the plastic knife on Tommy's tray. As weapons went it was crap - as something to fiddle with, though? Fucking perfect. After a moment's hesitation, she looked back at Tommy and grimaced. "You mind if I borrow this?" she asked as she reached over and snatched it up.
There. She felt better already.
"Help yourself." Tommy could have stopped her before her hand was halfway there, but if she'd been going to go after him, a fast-food knife wasn't exactly going to do a hell of a lot. And... his gaze flashed to her arms, but her illusion or image inducer or whatever was back up again. But what he'd seen on her had looked like the same kinds of scarring he had on his arms, from the ports and the needles. And if she was going to cut, it wouldn't be here in the middle of the food court.
"This guy you run with," Tommy directed that at Alex. He seemed the more likely of the two to give him a straight answer, anyway. "The one who has powers like mine. What's up with that? I thought at first that the assholes had actually figured out how to move powersets around, but your girl Eileen said he'd been around a lot longer than a few months."
"School. Huh," Alex muttered, mostly to himself, then shrugged. If that's all it was, then he wished the guy luck; he was inclined to be suspicious of all superficially altruistic motives--but he had a feeling Other Speedster wasn't exactly an easy mark. Not after going through the wringer, seemingly to almost the same extent Pam had. And while his mind was on her, he darted his eyes quickly to one side, just to check. She was making a plastic knife dance between her knuckles with practiced ease, and seemed to have relaxed somewhat. And didn't that just figure? They were going to have to make a point to bring something pointy with them on all outings that had a strong chance of going south.
But the speedster's question pulled him out of his musings. "What, you mean Quicksilver? Yeah ... it's really bizarre, the resemblance between you two. I'd say it was like you were twins, except he's got a twin sister already." Alex shifted, a touch uncomfortable; this probably wasn't his crap to talk about in the first place, but it was little enough to offer. And if this helped, he was willing to give what he felt he could.
"A dad, too, though I'm not sure how close they are. I mean, I've only known him a couple of months, but the others talk like he's been around pretty much the whole time. And they're not really great liars, for the most part. Especially not Eileen. Blunt is pretty much her only language, far as I've seen." Blunt and laced with profanity, but he didn't want to cast his teammates in too bad a light.
"Pietro's been around," Pam volunteered, and fuck calling the others by their codenames if she was giving her real one. Alex had already outed Eileen, and she liked her better than she did either of the Maximoffs. "Wanda complains all the time about what a brat he was as a kid. And I'm pretty sure he came by his powers legit." She shrugged and held the knife still in her hand. "Far as I know, I'm the only guinea pig they managed to stick any random DNA into who didn't die of it."
"'Quicksilver'? Seriously?" Tommy echoed with faint disbelief. But then, Xavier'd had them pick code names as well. Some of them obviously took it a lot more seriously than others. Pietro and Wanda - what kind of names were those, anyway? Not English, or Spanish. He filed the information away as something to try and figure out later.
"Twins, hunh? That makes me the only speedster I know who doesn't come as part of a matched set." He said it aloud without really intending to, one of those trains of thought that happened to pass through his mouth on its way around his brain. Oops.
He glanced at Pam, the frown lingering as he digested her final comment and looked for a way to change the subject. "I don't suppose you ended up with speed powers from that." He was about to make the obvious joke about getting a little bit of himself in there, but another look at the intensity of her expression and her general body language was actually enough to flip on his self-preservation instincts, and he kept his mouth shut.
Alex frowned slightly when Pam gave up the Maximoff twins' given names ... but couldn't really fault her. What harm could it do, really? He noted the thing about superspeed twins being pretty common with a bit of a start, but he couldn't help but bristle a bit at that last comment. If anybody should be able to understand the hell Pam had been through, it should be this guy.
"Hey. Not cool, man. She barely survived what they did to her. And the powers she has now she didn't then? Those are the ones that didn't survive. And you're still here." And Pam. And him. God, he didn't want this to go badly, but ... they'd been his friends, too.
Unexpectedly, even to herself, Pam spoke up. "No. It's okay." She reached up, put her hand over Alex's and squeezed it. "No speed, no. They didn't try a round two with the DNA splicing, then? I wondered."
"Yeah, I'm still here," Tommy snapped right back. "And if I focused too hard on the bullshit that went on, I'd have taken myself out of the equation months ago." He had not intended to say that, either, but fuck it. He'd damned well earned the right to be flippant about his experiences if he wanted to. It was that or sink so far down under the weight of them that he'd never find light again. He blew out a breath, tried to get his brain and mouth working on the same team.
"And," he continued, cooler-headed than before, "considering that every last one of you guys has made comments about how identical I am to a guy I'd never met before, I think wondering if my DNA's in play somewhere else is a fair question." He shook his head at Pam. "They took a shitload of blood out of me between the other things. Never tried to make me do anything other than use the powers I started with. Blow this up, now that, now bigger, farther away. Fun times," he finished, his voice thick with sarcasm and his throat tight.
God. Talking about it made it so much more real, more than just a fever dream he could push back and ignore. Tommy's fingers drummed rapidly on the tabletop, a tic he barely noticed.
Alex flushed, his eyes fixing on the table despite his best efforts. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean ... " He trailed off lamely, and seemingly tried to find anything else to look at. "'Blow this up'. I know that one. That was my life, for as long as I was stuck in that ..." He trailed off again. Gouts of plasma appeared around his fingertips, charring the tabletop, dissolving his plastic fork into a black glob that quickly wilted around his fingers. "Sorry."
At the smell of melting plastic, Pam turned towards Alex, and reached over to brush her fingertips lightly over the back of his hand. "Hey, he gets it. It's okay, Alex." She turned back to Tommy and shrugged, trying to keep it chill so Alex could. So the newbie could. Fuck, how did she end up with that role? That was totally Alex's thing.
"You're not a dead ringer for Pietro. Or anywhere near as annoying. But I'm pretty sure Wanda, at least, thinks you're a long lost half brother or some shit. She's badgering the shit out of her dad about it. And anyway," her grin faded, "we weren't at the same facility, or at the same time. They sent ours up in smoke. Didn't know they rebuilt until you were already out - I think you blowing shit up caught the boss's attention, but he didn't give us details."
That was more along the lines of things Tommy wanted to know. First, though... he wiped his own fork off on the knee of his jeans and pushed it across the table to Alex. It wasn't exactly an olive branch as far as gestures went, but whatever. He could take it or not. Tommy tried to catch Alex's eyes, and he set his fingertips on the table. If he focused, did it careful, he could maybe do just a little...
The salt packet on Alex's tray rattled with a tiny pulse of vibration, then blurred with motion, then vaporized into a puff of disassembled paper shreds and a tiny cloud of salt. Tommy slouched again with a self-satisfied grin.
"Wanda's dad -- is he also 'the boss'?" Tommy asked, glancing at Pam. "Who is this guy? And why would she think I might be his kid?"
The blond teen brushed the back of his hand across his eyes as the plasma dissipated--kinda hating himself as he did so, since he was supposed to be the relatively-stable and together one, so Pam didn't have to be--and mustered a grateful smile. They'd been right to come looking for this guy, he was more sure of it now than ever. Whatever else was going on in their lives, it helped to be around people who'd lived the same nightmare. Even if he wouldn't have wished it on anybody else. Even when it seemed like the ones that hadn't might be better off.
"It's a ... family history kinda thing," Alex replied, obviously being very careful with his words. "See, Quicksilver a--Pietro and Wanda," Pam had already put it out there, so it wasn't like there was much sense pretending, at this point, "they didn't actually grow up with their dad; didn't even know he existed until just a year or so ago, I think. So there's a lot of missing time. And yeah, since he thought his wife and kids were gone forever, it's ... not impossible he might have ... you know. Like hell if I'm gonna be the one that asks him, though." Wanda was almost as scary as her dad--scarier, on some days. If she ever did manage to pry something like an answer out of her old man, he was pretty sure the rest of the Brotherhood would know about it soon afterward. The Maximoffs were not exactly the most reserved couple of teenagers.
"Longer ago than a year or so," Pam contributed. Her forehead furrowed as she tried to remember. "Around eight years, maybe? Because there was the whole thing where he sent Wanda off and - yeah, whatever. Not a huge surprise if the boss fucked around. And I'd ask," she admitted, "but honestly, it's way more fun to watch Wanda do it. I can probably get it out of her if she finds out, though, if you want to know."
"Yeah," Tommy decided. "I want to know. If there's any chance that the asshole I grew up with isn't actually my father, I'm gonna skywrite a fuck you so large they'll be able to see it in Hawaii." What some dude leading a team of mutant kids might have seen in a frumpy Jersey housewife, mind you, Tommy couldn't even begin to imagine.
"Does he have powers?" If he did, whoever this guy was, and they were speed powers, that would seal the deal as far as Tommy was concerned.
Alex had just nodded along with Pam's correction; he wasn't really that clear on the group's timeline, except that some of the kids had been around longer than others. It stood to reason that Magneto's twins would have been the earliest recruits. But he shook his head at Tommy's latest question. "He does, but they're nothing at all like Pietro's. Or Wanda's, either. It's like some kinda weird powers lotto, with those three. But they're definitely family."
Pam had been chewing her lip, trying to decide just how incredibly stupid her idea was, then sighed and held out her hand. "Gimme your phone, hey? I'll program in my number; gimme a call in a week or so and I'll tell you what we find out." She glanced over at Alex and shrugged. "If he calls me, everyone'll believe he's just some guy I hit on at the mall."
"That could be true, I'd be down," Tommy slid the smart-ass bravado back up as he slid his phone across the table. It was a school-issued piece of junk anyway, so if she blew it up or ran off it wasn't a huge loss. "Blondie over there could tag along, I don't mind." It was easy to be a smart-ass about it when he was certain they wouldn't go for it, an easy way to split himself off from the overwhelming importance of the moment.
"Alex," Blondie corrected, in a voice that implied it was a nickname he'd heard before. A lot. Good to know that dysfunctional mutants seemed to be the same all over. Gave him a sense of continuity. "And if I tag along, it'll only be to remind you to keep hydrated. And maybe make some speedster jokes." After living with the Brotherhood this last while, the smart-assery mostly rolled right off him now. And it wasn't like he didn't get needing a defense mechanism to cope with feelings and shit. He had his own, and Pam definitely had hers.
Pam rolled her eyes and smirked. Alex knew her too well, and Tommy not at all. "Ask me again some time, you might like the answer," she tossed in as she pecked in her number, then glanced around. No one was looking, so...
Her features flickered, and after scarcely a moment's hesitation, settled into her own. Just...not blue. Damned if she could remember whether or not Alex had ever seen her this way - the order of some shit was blurry, which wasn't altogether a bad thing - and she was sure no one else had, since. But it seemed right, somehow. She snapped a selfie, then reimaged herself once more, back into the face she'd been wearing. "There you go, pic and all," she said as she handed it back.
Tommy's eyebrows went up, and he glanced from the photo to Pam and back again. "This one's cute, you should do this one more often," he offered, tipping the phone in her direction. Maybe it was her real face, maybe it wasn't, but the base fact that she'd done it that way meant something. Maybe. (That or she was making sure he didn't have photo evidence that looked anything like her real self. Go figure with shifters.)
Should he? Shouldn't he? When his common sense was yelling at him 'Tommy, no,' the only answer possible was 'Tommy, yes.' He tapped the keys of his phone and fired off a text to the number she'd given him. "There's me. Just in case you feel the urge to stalk me again."
"Well," Alex said, mostly to himself, "I somehow think that it would be kind of awkward to stay and finish my food court Chinese food, after that. So ... maybe we should go? I think we should go. And definitely keep in touch."
Pam's eyes flicked over towards Alex, her forehead furrowing in confusion, but she shrugged and got to her feet. He'd explain later if he wanted her to know, and it wasn't like her food was anything more than a prop, anyway. "Stalking later," she promised. "Just leave your GPS turned on. And call if you need anything."
"I'd say the same, but you've already got a fast guy to handle things," Tommy slid his phone back in his pocket. Alex hadn't offered anything, but he hadn't exactly expected it either. "Call me if you need someone faster."
"For the love of God," said Alex, grimacing, "please don't say anything like that where Pietro even might possibly hear you." The pissing contest that would no doubt ensue would exceed all reasonable bounds, and would probably end with when one or both of them wore both feed down to stumps doing laps around the continent.
"But yeah," he nodded. "We'll get back to you, either way, when Pam can find out something from Wanda. Maybe this'll all turn out to be one big, insanely unlikely coincidence."
"Because those are common," Pam snarked. She wrapped an arm around Alex's back and waved to Tommy. "Catch you later!" She started to head off, and eyed Alex curiously. "After what?" she asked, still puzzled by his sudden desire to leave.
Tommy watched them go, trying to decide if he was more or less unsettled by the sudden appearance. There was a pang of jealousy as he returned Pam's wave -- not because of her specifically, though she was smoking -- but because of the obvious bond there. What would it have been like if he'd had someone to turn to, in there? Would it have been easier to deal?
Harder, probably. Then he'd have had to try and bust someone else out at the same time, and there was no knowing if he would have been able to manage it.
Then, a worse thought. What if someone had been there, and he'd never known?
Didn't matter. The place was a big fat pile of rubble now, and he had other things to worry about. Tommy stood, dumped his tray in the garbage, and headed for a different set of doors.
Alex settled his arm comfortably around Pam's shoulders, but gave her a curious, sideways glance at her question, his gaze momentarily diverted from the departing speedster. "After that mini-freakout of mine?" he suggested. "I mean, I know you saw the bit where I charred the table and melted my fork. I'm not supposed to do that kinda thing--definitely not in public. It'd be too easy to lose control of it." He took a deep breath. "But that ... that was harder than I thought it would be. I guess having to remember it's ... it's like being back there again, sometimes. I don't know. I suck. Sorry."
"You don't suck." Pam tightened her arm around him and tilted her head into his shoulder. Normally, she'd follow it up with a "much" or something like that, but she didn't much feel like it right now. "Besides, if you hadn't freaked, I would have. Melted forks probably draw less attention than bleeding flatscans. It's all good."
He watched the familiar--yet not--silver head duck out of the exit opposite the one he and Pam were moving toward, and sighed. "Good as can be, I guess. Let's go home before they notice we're gone."
"Fuck that." Pam followed his gaze, then looked back at Alex. "Let's go somewhere you can burn it off." She made a face. "Somewhere outside." Because somehow, even the fucking mall felt like it was too closed in. She really didn't want to deal with Asteroid M.
Burning it off would be nice ... Alex could already feel the familiar ache cramping his knuckles and forearms. "Where?" he asked. "It's pretty not-subtle, you know."
Good question. Pam frowned as they headed towards the door. "Mohave Desert?"
He gave a tight smile, feeling the familiar tingle in his fingertips at the mere suggestion he could just turn it all loose. "Sounds just remote enough to work. Thanks, Fatale."
"Doesn't sound bad to me, either," she admitted as she opened a portal inside the door they were about to go through. One thing was bugging her, though - well, lots of things, but at the moment, one was nagging at her louder than the others, since she wasn't letting herself think about the facility. Especially since she honestly couldn't remember whether Alex had ever seen her before she'd been stuck looking like a fucking smurf. "So...do you like that one better, too?" she asked as she stepped through her portal.
"The other ... Oh!" It took him a moment to catch her meaning, but he did manage to catch up belatedly. Alex's face screwed up into a wry expression. "Don't take this the wrong way, because the other one is definitely still hot, but I prefer my Fatale. As far as I'm concerned, she's the original, and there's no improving on it."
Pam smiled and tightened her arm around his waist briefly as she let her illusion fall away, revealing her normal, blue, appearance. "You're full of it, Summers," she said in response, then made a shooing gesture towards the expanse of desert before them. Which didn't have a single place where anyone could fucking get locked up, in any way. It wasn't, she reflected, a bad choice. Other than the heat, anyway. "Go. Shoot cactii or something."
He leaned in to plant a quick peck on her cheek, then stepped away, plasma energy already coalescing around his forearms. "You're the best," he said, jogging a short distance away and looking for a random rock formation to blast to rubble. This was exactly what he needed, right then.
The mall in Salem Center was your standard-issue small-town shopping center, but at least it had a decent food court. The tray in front of him was empty now except for a handful of wrappers and a cup of melting ice. Tommy stretched out his legs and propped his feet up on the chair opposite his, sliding down and slouching in his seat.
He blended right in with the local crowd now that he’d been able to ditch the Xavier-branded dork wardrobe, replacing the hand-me-downs with ripped jeans and some pretty good old band tees from the thrift store. The sunglasses that were currently shoved on to the top of his head weren’t exactly necessary, but they were a hell of a lot better than getting crap in his eyes when he was running. He’d even managed to load a decent amount of music on to the school-issue phone, and with one earbud in he could drown out much of the chatter and noise of the food court while still keeping generally aware of the world around him.
All told, even given everything that had gone on over the past few weeks, this particular afternoon was a decent one. Which meant that any minute now, something was bound to fuck it up.
As much as he felt it was the right thing to do, Alex was still pretty anxious about this whole thing. Magneto had, through is Brotherhood, pulled Pam and him out of a situation that probably would have ended with both of them dead, eventually. They owed him for that, and being out in Salem Center like this kinda felt like stabbing him in the back. On the other hand, they owed a bigger debt to the other survivors; they'd seen a lot of kids used and experimented on until even the remains were a meager shadow of their former selves. If this Pietro-lookalike had also managed to get out, then they needed to find him. If nothing else, they needed to know he wasn't in a situation as bad or worse as the one the Right had put him in.
That meant prowling around the town, whenever they had a free minute. And could get away from the others--Christ, they nagged like a half-dozen spinster aunts, sometimes. But they meant well, for the most part. Still, it was better none of them, and especially not Magneto, knew where they were or what they were doing just then. Alex could not imagine that would go ever well.
So there they were, in the food court of the local shopping center, surrounded by baselines and ... well, stuff. Alex's tray was piled high with Panda Express, and he picked over his Orange Chicken while studying the crowd. This was the stomping grounds of those kids that had run into Wanda and Pietro's group the other night. Chances were good the speedster would turn up in this vicinity eventually. Though this was their third day staking out the location, with nothing to show for it so far.
"See anything?" he asked the disconcertingly not-blue girl sitting next to him, around a mouthful of fountain soda.
"A shitload of idiot flatscans?" Pam replied. She was picking at the Bourbon Chicken she'd gotten from The Big Easy, more as an excuse to be sitting at the table with Alex than because she was actually hungry.
On principle, she agreed with Alex - they needed to check in on the Pietro look-alike. She'd stolen a peek at the files they'd brought back from the shithold, and the guy'd had a crap time of it. And had gotten himself out, which was one hell of an accomplishment. She kinda wanted to give the kid a pat on the back for that, and agreed that they had to make sure he hadn't frying pan to the fire'd it. On the flipside, she'd been jittery as hell ever since she'd found out just what mission the others had gone on, prone to looking over her shoulder and fiddling with her knives. The dickheads were like a hydra or something - cut off one head (or burn it down) and two more popped up. Which meant they were still out there.
She'd seriously hoped she'd killed them all. Knowing she hadn't - well, she hadn't been sleeping much the last week or so, either.
"Maybe we should just - no, hold it. He's over there," she said, indicating the direction with a barely perceptible jerk of her chin once a guy who could damn near give Blob competition moved his fat ass and stopped blocking that quarter of the food court. "Eileen's right - he looks even more like Pietro than he did on tv." She looked back to Alex and arched an eyebrow. "So, now what?"
"I ... honestly don't know," Alex admitted, trying not to stare as he pushed fried rice around on his plate with his fork. "I sort of thought this would take longer, and I'd have some idea what to do by the time we actually ran into the guy." There was no method he could come up with for making a first impression that wouldn't make them come across like they were selling something, just walking up to him and trying to make small talk out of nowhere. Maybe the best thing would be just to get it over with.
Taking a deep breath, he stood up from his chair and picked up his food-court tray of regulation brown plastic. "Let's go," he said, starting toward the silver-haired teen and trying to keep a firm hold on the knot of nervous energy building in his middle; they definitely didn't need another meltdown incident out here in public.
"Hey," he greeted lamely when they reached not-Pietro's table. "You mind sharing?" Alex's appetite had completely evaporated, by that point, but it was as good a pretext as any.
Tommy caught movement out of the corner of his eye - directed intentional movement, rather, not just the milling-around of crowds. He glanced up as the pair approached him, taking them in. Hot, that was one thing; the girl dressed a bit like Illyana, all crop tops and slink, and he could definitely appreciate that. The guy spoke first, and Tommy popped out his earbud.
He glanced around the food court, but yeah -- most of the tables were full. Tommy dropped his feet to the floor and nodded, pushing back his chair. "Sure." Something caught at him, though; maybe it was their expressions, maybe the nerves the guy was radiating like something was about to happen. If some town kids thought they were going to roll him, they were going to get a serious surprise. "I was gonna get moving anyway, so it's all yours."
Yeah, that was effective. Pam set her food down on the table, tossing Alex a "that was brilliant" look before plopping down in the adjacent chair. Fuck beating around. If the kid was as much like Pietro as he looked, he wouldn't have patience with it anyway.
"Actually, kinda wanted to talk to you," she said. She rested her arm on the table and leaned in towards him, in a way that would appear to any onlookers as if she were flirting. For the kid's benefit, though, she jerked her eyes towards her arm and let her illusion flicker, her arm turning blue for a split second and revealing an array of scars that she mostly kept concealed, even when she was wearing her own face. He was a speedster - it was more than long enough for him to look at and analyze, right? He'd know what they meant, considering the matching ones on his own. "We're not here to start shit. Just talk, and you can take off whenever. Deal?"
Alex didn't miss that look, and returned it with one that was definitely put-upon. He caught the flicker of blue at Pam's arm only because he was paying close attention, and watched for the other teen's reaction. He disconsolately speared an orange-ish chunk of chicken on the end of his fork, though he didn't bring it to his mouth. "You say that like we could stop him from leaving, either way." Because speedster--not really something either of them was equipped to handle, especially not in a setting like this. Especially when they were all trying to keep a low profile.
"But, yeah," he went on. "We really do need to talk. There aren't that many of us left." That, more quietly, and for once when Alex said "us", he wasn't talking about mutants. He was talking about survivors.
Tommy's attention was momentarily diverted when the hot girl leaned in, but the way she dropped the illusion dropped his expectations along those lines as well. This wasn't some weird threesome pickup attempt, it was real life intruding on his attempts to forget all about everything.
He revised his first impressions, too. They weren't looking to start trouble -- if they'd been in a situation like his, they were tense because they were expecting it. Fine. "He's not wrong," Tommy replied, cocking his eyebrow at the guy, but replying to her. "Since you apparently know me, you know that if you come at me you'll be eating dust."
It was also apparently a chance to get some information without someone trying to knock him on his ass at the same time. He'd managed to fuck things up at the facility, left knowing less about what was going on than when he'd gotten there. And if these guys were connected to the other kids they'd met there, maybe they'd be able to give him some answers. At least neither of them had tried to give him cramps again.
So he settled into the chair rather than vanish on them, keeping them both in his line of sight. He gave the guy a half-smile, reluctantly acknowledging what he was saying. "Until a few days ago, I thought I was the only one. Are you with those other bozos?"
"Hey, those other bozos are our teammates," Pam retorted, leaning back in her chair and offering a smirk. Casual. Keep it looking casual, and maybe it'd start feeling it, too, and her stomach would stop trying to rip itself to shreds. Fine, whatever, he could've gone if he wanted - that was the point she'd been trying to make, no one was even going to try to stop him. "Doesn't change the fact they're mostly idiots, but they're our idiots. Be nice, Tommy."
Alex looked like he wanted to protest that their teammates weren't idiots, exactly--at least, not all the time--but Pam was kinda probably not happy about him saying out loud stuff she already knew about them and their ability to detain speedsters, so it seemed safer just to keep his mouth shut, on that point.
Instead, he offered, "They're the ones that got us out; chances are, we'd both be dead right now, if it wasn't for them." He toyed with his fork a little more, then ventured, "Eileen's ... well, not sorry, exactly," apologies weren't really a thing Phantazia did, no matter how badly she fucked up, "but I think she would have liked to approach things a different way, in hindsight? For what it's worth."
'Eileen' had to be the flying blonde who'd zapped him. Tommy hesitated, then nodded. About a dozen different questions were crashing around in his head, maybe more than that -- how exactly had she zapped him? Who the hell was the Quicksilver guy? Why had they found these two and not Tommy? -- and he tried to push them aside. Focus on one thing at a time. (He'd never been good at that.)
He wanted... he wanted to be able to trust them. Unlike the kids at Xaviers, and assuming they were telling the truth, they'd know the how and what and why without him having to say anything. But their 'team' hadn't exactly gotten off on the best foot with his, and trusting was so not his strong suit.
"I'm guessing you're not Eileen," he said out loud, looking at the girl. "You're able to do your own talking. So if we're gonna have a conversation -- and since you already know my name -- how about some introductions first."
Pam's eyes darted to Alex for reassurance, found it there, and turned her attention back to Tommy. She was going to hate herself for this later, she knew. Fuck, she hated herself for it now. But - he was one of them. "You...you can call me Pam. But most don't, so keep your mouth shut? It's usually Fatale."
"I'm Alex," he said, "and I'd take her word for that? I mean, I've known her since forever, and I still have to call her Fatale, most of the time."
He shrugged, and poked at his Orange Chicken some more. "Look, we're not exactly supposed to be out here. But ... we wanted to ... check on you? I know it's lame, but still. We had to make sure you were okay."
And that caught Tommy off-guard. Not just that they actually gave him their names (or what he was supposed to believe was their names, anyway), but the unfamiliar sensation of someone reaching out. The last person who'd tried that had been Illyana, and that hadn't exactly gone according to plan.
He frowned at them, his brow furrowing. "Why? Your girl didn't hit me that hard."
Pam dug her nails into her palms, nearly hard enough to draw blood, trying to hold it together. Damn it, she should've let Alex come on his own – she couldn't fucking deal with this, and she was not going to keep turning to Alex for support like a fucking cheerleader. The kid (and fuck, she should probably stop thinking of him like that, he was the same age she was, if the files were right) was waiting for a reply, and she was going to have to give him one, wasn't she?
"Because...we've been there." She looked up and met Tommy's eyes. "We were the only ones left, until Eileen came back from the mission talking about the mini Quicksilver who'd actually gotten himself out of one of their shitholes. And we had to make sure you were okay."
"You got out of one hellhole," Alex added, "we wanted to know you hadn't ended up in another one." He hadn't missed Pam's growing anxiety, and he rested a hand reassuringly on her arm as naturally as he possibly could. Which probably meant it was still awkward as fuck, but whatever. Priorities. "And 'cause maybe it would help to know you weren't the only one to go through it and survive." Somehow. Maybe.
Alex was alright; Pam was still vibrating with stress, but at least she didn't seem ready to pop him one. And Tommy wasn't exactly super-relaxed right at the moment, either. The memories scrabbled at the back of his brain again, wanting to be let out, and he tried the wall exercise again, the one that was supposed to be good for blocking out telepaths. Maybe imagining bricking up his brain would keep the flashbacks away as well. It was a thought, anyway.
And he'd paused too long, long enough for even snails to notice the hesitation. "Thanks," he said awkwardly, the word unfamiliar on his tongue. "That's ... cool of you. And I'm okay, for now." How much did he say? How much was supposed to be super-secret, and how much was he allowed to reveal? And, more relevantly, how much did he care about either of those things?
"There's a school near here," Tommy compromised with himself, because honestly, that shit was easy enough to track down. "They're letting me board free. Perks of being a runaway," he added sarcastically. "But I'll be all right there until I figure out my next move. What about you?" he frowned, looking from one to the other.
"We're good." Pam had relaxed, a little, at the feeling of Alex's hand on her arm, though her eyes kept darting to the plastic knife on Tommy's tray. As weapons went it was crap - as something to fiddle with, though? Fucking perfect. After a moment's hesitation, she looked back at Tommy and grimaced. "You mind if I borrow this?" she asked as she reached over and snatched it up.
There. She felt better already.
"Help yourself." Tommy could have stopped her before her hand was halfway there, but if she'd been going to go after him, a fast-food knife wasn't exactly going to do a hell of a lot. And... his gaze flashed to her arms, but her illusion or image inducer or whatever was back up again. But what he'd seen on her had looked like the same kinds of scarring he had on his arms, from the ports and the needles. And if she was going to cut, it wouldn't be here in the middle of the food court.
"This guy you run with," Tommy directed that at Alex. He seemed the more likely of the two to give him a straight answer, anyway. "The one who has powers like mine. What's up with that? I thought at first that the assholes had actually figured out how to move powersets around, but your girl Eileen said he'd been around a lot longer than a few months."
"School. Huh," Alex muttered, mostly to himself, then shrugged. If that's all it was, then he wished the guy luck; he was inclined to be suspicious of all superficially altruistic motives--but he had a feeling Other Speedster wasn't exactly an easy mark. Not after going through the wringer, seemingly to almost the same extent Pam had. And while his mind was on her, he darted his eyes quickly to one side, just to check. She was making a plastic knife dance between her knuckles with practiced ease, and seemed to have relaxed somewhat. And didn't that just figure? They were going to have to make a point to bring something pointy with them on all outings that had a strong chance of going south.
But the speedster's question pulled him out of his musings. "What, you mean Quicksilver? Yeah ... it's really bizarre, the resemblance between you two. I'd say it was like you were twins, except he's got a twin sister already." Alex shifted, a touch uncomfortable; this probably wasn't his crap to talk about in the first place, but it was little enough to offer. And if this helped, he was willing to give what he felt he could.
"A dad, too, though I'm not sure how close they are. I mean, I've only known him a couple of months, but the others talk like he's been around pretty much the whole time. And they're not really great liars, for the most part. Especially not Eileen. Blunt is pretty much her only language, far as I've seen." Blunt and laced with profanity, but he didn't want to cast his teammates in too bad a light.
"Pietro's been around," Pam volunteered, and fuck calling the others by their codenames if she was giving her real one. Alex had already outed Eileen, and she liked her better than she did either of the Maximoffs. "Wanda complains all the time about what a brat he was as a kid. And I'm pretty sure he came by his powers legit." She shrugged and held the knife still in her hand. "Far as I know, I'm the only guinea pig they managed to stick any random DNA into who didn't die of it."
"'Quicksilver'? Seriously?" Tommy echoed with faint disbelief. But then, Xavier'd had them pick code names as well. Some of them obviously took it a lot more seriously than others. Pietro and Wanda - what kind of names were those, anyway? Not English, or Spanish. He filed the information away as something to try and figure out later.
"Twins, hunh? That makes me the only speedster I know who doesn't come as part of a matched set." He said it aloud without really intending to, one of those trains of thought that happened to pass through his mouth on its way around his brain. Oops.
He glanced at Pam, the frown lingering as he digested her final comment and looked for a way to change the subject. "I don't suppose you ended up with speed powers from that." He was about to make the obvious joke about getting a little bit of himself in there, but another look at the intensity of her expression and her general body language was actually enough to flip on his self-preservation instincts, and he kept his mouth shut.
Alex frowned slightly when Pam gave up the Maximoff twins' given names ... but couldn't really fault her. What harm could it do, really? He noted the thing about superspeed twins being pretty common with a bit of a start, but he couldn't help but bristle a bit at that last comment. If anybody should be able to understand the hell Pam had been through, it should be this guy.
"Hey. Not cool, man. She barely survived what they did to her. And the powers she has now she didn't then? Those are the ones that didn't survive. And you're still here." And Pam. And him. God, he didn't want this to go badly, but ... they'd been his friends, too.
Unexpectedly, even to herself, Pam spoke up. "No. It's okay." She reached up, put her hand over Alex's and squeezed it. "No speed, no. They didn't try a round two with the DNA splicing, then? I wondered."
"Yeah, I'm still here," Tommy snapped right back. "And if I focused too hard on the bullshit that went on, I'd have taken myself out of the equation months ago." He had not intended to say that, either, but fuck it. He'd damned well earned the right to be flippant about his experiences if he wanted to. It was that or sink so far down under the weight of them that he'd never find light again. He blew out a breath, tried to get his brain and mouth working on the same team.
"And," he continued, cooler-headed than before, "considering that every last one of you guys has made comments about how identical I am to a guy I'd never met before, I think wondering if my DNA's in play somewhere else is a fair question." He shook his head at Pam. "They took a shitload of blood out of me between the other things. Never tried to make me do anything other than use the powers I started with. Blow this up, now that, now bigger, farther away. Fun times," he finished, his voice thick with sarcasm and his throat tight.
God. Talking about it made it so much more real, more than just a fever dream he could push back and ignore. Tommy's fingers drummed rapidly on the tabletop, a tic he barely noticed.
Alex flushed, his eyes fixing on the table despite his best efforts. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean ... " He trailed off lamely, and seemingly tried to find anything else to look at. "'Blow this up'. I know that one. That was my life, for as long as I was stuck in that ..." He trailed off again. Gouts of plasma appeared around his fingertips, charring the tabletop, dissolving his plastic fork into a black glob that quickly wilted around his fingers. "Sorry."
At the smell of melting plastic, Pam turned towards Alex, and reached over to brush her fingertips lightly over the back of his hand. "Hey, he gets it. It's okay, Alex." She turned back to Tommy and shrugged, trying to keep it chill so Alex could. So the newbie could. Fuck, how did she end up with that role? That was totally Alex's thing.
"You're not a dead ringer for Pietro. Or anywhere near as annoying. But I'm pretty sure Wanda, at least, thinks you're a long lost half brother or some shit. She's badgering the shit out of her dad about it. And anyway," her grin faded, "we weren't at the same facility, or at the same time. They sent ours up in smoke. Didn't know they rebuilt until you were already out - I think you blowing shit up caught the boss's attention, but he didn't give us details."
That was more along the lines of things Tommy wanted to know. First, though... he wiped his own fork off on the knee of his jeans and pushed it across the table to Alex. It wasn't exactly an olive branch as far as gestures went, but whatever. He could take it or not. Tommy tried to catch Alex's eyes, and he set his fingertips on the table. If he focused, did it careful, he could maybe do just a little...
The salt packet on Alex's tray rattled with a tiny pulse of vibration, then blurred with motion, then vaporized into a puff of disassembled paper shreds and a tiny cloud of salt. Tommy slouched again with a self-satisfied grin.
"Wanda's dad -- is he also 'the boss'?" Tommy asked, glancing at Pam. "Who is this guy? And why would she think I might be his kid?"
The blond teen brushed the back of his hand across his eyes as the plasma dissipated--kinda hating himself as he did so, since he was supposed to be the relatively-stable and together one, so Pam didn't have to be--and mustered a grateful smile. They'd been right to come looking for this guy, he was more sure of it now than ever. Whatever else was going on in their lives, it helped to be around people who'd lived the same nightmare. Even if he wouldn't have wished it on anybody else. Even when it seemed like the ones that hadn't might be better off.
"It's a ... family history kinda thing," Alex replied, obviously being very careful with his words. "See, Quicksilver a--Pietro and Wanda," Pam had already put it out there, so it wasn't like there was much sense pretending, at this point, "they didn't actually grow up with their dad; didn't even know he existed until just a year or so ago, I think. So there's a lot of missing time. And yeah, since he thought his wife and kids were gone forever, it's ... not impossible he might have ... you know. Like hell if I'm gonna be the one that asks him, though." Wanda was almost as scary as her dad--scarier, on some days. If she ever did manage to pry something like an answer out of her old man, he was pretty sure the rest of the Brotherhood would know about it soon afterward. The Maximoffs were not exactly the most reserved couple of teenagers.
"Longer ago than a year or so," Pam contributed. Her forehead furrowed as she tried to remember. "Around eight years, maybe? Because there was the whole thing where he sent Wanda off and - yeah, whatever. Not a huge surprise if the boss fucked around. And I'd ask," she admitted, "but honestly, it's way more fun to watch Wanda do it. I can probably get it out of her if she finds out, though, if you want to know."
"Yeah," Tommy decided. "I want to know. If there's any chance that the asshole I grew up with isn't actually my father, I'm gonna skywrite a fuck you so large they'll be able to see it in Hawaii." What some dude leading a team of mutant kids might have seen in a frumpy Jersey housewife, mind you, Tommy couldn't even begin to imagine.
"Does he have powers?" If he did, whoever this guy was, and they were speed powers, that would seal the deal as far as Tommy was concerned.
Alex had just nodded along with Pam's correction; he wasn't really that clear on the group's timeline, except that some of the kids had been around longer than others. It stood to reason that Magneto's twins would have been the earliest recruits. But he shook his head at Tommy's latest question. "He does, but they're nothing at all like Pietro's. Or Wanda's, either. It's like some kinda weird powers lotto, with those three. But they're definitely family."
Pam had been chewing her lip, trying to decide just how incredibly stupid her idea was, then sighed and held out her hand. "Gimme your phone, hey? I'll program in my number; gimme a call in a week or so and I'll tell you what we find out." She glanced over at Alex and shrugged. "If he calls me, everyone'll believe he's just some guy I hit on at the mall."
"That could be true, I'd be down," Tommy slid the smart-ass bravado back up as he slid his phone across the table. It was a school-issued piece of junk anyway, so if she blew it up or ran off it wasn't a huge loss. "Blondie over there could tag along, I don't mind." It was easy to be a smart-ass about it when he was certain they wouldn't go for it, an easy way to split himself off from the overwhelming importance of the moment.
"Alex," Blondie corrected, in a voice that implied it was a nickname he'd heard before. A lot. Good to know that dysfunctional mutants seemed to be the same all over. Gave him a sense of continuity. "And if I tag along, it'll only be to remind you to keep hydrated. And maybe make some speedster jokes." After living with the Brotherhood this last while, the smart-assery mostly rolled right off him now. And it wasn't like he didn't get needing a defense mechanism to cope with feelings and shit. He had his own, and Pam definitely had hers.
Pam rolled her eyes and smirked. Alex knew her too well, and Tommy not at all. "Ask me again some time, you might like the answer," she tossed in as she pecked in her number, then glanced around. No one was looking, so...
Her features flickered, and after scarcely a moment's hesitation, settled into her own. Just...not blue. Damned if she could remember whether or not Alex had ever seen her this way - the order of some shit was blurry, which wasn't altogether a bad thing - and she was sure no one else had, since. But it seemed right, somehow. She snapped a selfie, then reimaged herself once more, back into the face she'd been wearing. "There you go, pic and all," she said as she handed it back.
Tommy's eyebrows went up, and he glanced from the photo to Pam and back again. "This one's cute, you should do this one more often," he offered, tipping the phone in her direction. Maybe it was her real face, maybe it wasn't, but the base fact that she'd done it that way meant something. Maybe. (That or she was making sure he didn't have photo evidence that looked anything like her real self. Go figure with shifters.)
Should he? Shouldn't he? When his common sense was yelling at him 'Tommy, no,' the only answer possible was 'Tommy, yes.' He tapped the keys of his phone and fired off a text to the number she'd given him. "There's me. Just in case you feel the urge to stalk me again."
"Well," Alex said, mostly to himself, "I somehow think that it would be kind of awkward to stay and finish my food court Chinese food, after that. So ... maybe we should go? I think we should go. And definitely keep in touch."
Pam's eyes flicked over towards Alex, her forehead furrowing in confusion, but she shrugged and got to her feet. He'd explain later if he wanted her to know, and it wasn't like her food was anything more than a prop, anyway. "Stalking later," she promised. "Just leave your GPS turned on. And call if you need anything."
"I'd say the same, but you've already got a fast guy to handle things," Tommy slid his phone back in his pocket. Alex hadn't offered anything, but he hadn't exactly expected it either. "Call me if you need someone faster."
"For the love of God," said Alex, grimacing, "please don't say anything like that where Pietro even might possibly hear you." The pissing contest that would no doubt ensue would exceed all reasonable bounds, and would probably end with when one or both of them wore both feed down to stumps doing laps around the continent.
"But yeah," he nodded. "We'll get back to you, either way, when Pam can find out something from Wanda. Maybe this'll all turn out to be one big, insanely unlikely coincidence."
"Because those are common," Pam snarked. She wrapped an arm around Alex's back and waved to Tommy. "Catch you later!" She started to head off, and eyed Alex curiously. "After what?" she asked, still puzzled by his sudden desire to leave.
Tommy watched them go, trying to decide if he was more or less unsettled by the sudden appearance. There was a pang of jealousy as he returned Pam's wave -- not because of her specifically, though she was smoking -- but because of the obvious bond there. What would it have been like if he'd had someone to turn to, in there? Would it have been easier to deal?
Harder, probably. Then he'd have had to try and bust someone else out at the same time, and there was no knowing if he would have been able to manage it.
Then, a worse thought. What if someone had been there, and he'd never known?
Didn't matter. The place was a big fat pile of rubble now, and he had other things to worry about. Tommy stood, dumped his tray in the garbage, and headed for a different set of doors.
Alex settled his arm comfortably around Pam's shoulders, but gave her a curious, sideways glance at her question, his gaze momentarily diverted from the departing speedster. "After that mini-freakout of mine?" he suggested. "I mean, I know you saw the bit where I charred the table and melted my fork. I'm not supposed to do that kinda thing--definitely not in public. It'd be too easy to lose control of it." He took a deep breath. "But that ... that was harder than I thought it would be. I guess having to remember it's ... it's like being back there again, sometimes. I don't know. I suck. Sorry."
"You don't suck." Pam tightened her arm around him and tilted her head into his shoulder. Normally, she'd follow it up with a "much" or something like that, but she didn't much feel like it right now. "Besides, if you hadn't freaked, I would have. Melted forks probably draw less attention than bleeding flatscans. It's all good."
He watched the familiar--yet not--silver head duck out of the exit opposite the one he and Pam were moving toward, and sighed. "Good as can be, I guess. Let's go home before they notice we're gone."
"Fuck that." Pam followed his gaze, then looked back at Alex. "Let's go somewhere you can burn it off." She made a face. "Somewhere outside." Because somehow, even the fucking mall felt like it was too closed in. She really didn't want to deal with Asteroid M.
Burning it off would be nice ... Alex could already feel the familiar ache cramping his knuckles and forearms. "Where?" he asked. "It's pretty not-subtle, you know."
Good question. Pam frowned as they headed towards the door. "Mohave Desert?"
He gave a tight smile, feeling the familiar tingle in his fingertips at the mere suggestion he could just turn it all loose. "Sounds just remote enough to work. Thanks, Fatale."
"Doesn't sound bad to me, either," she admitted as she opened a portal inside the door they were about to go through. One thing was bugging her, though - well, lots of things, but at the moment, one was nagging at her louder than the others, since she wasn't letting herself think about the facility. Especially since she honestly couldn't remember whether Alex had ever seen her before she'd been stuck looking like a fucking smurf. "So...do you like that one better, too?" she asked as she stepped through her portal.
"The other ... Oh!" It took him a moment to catch her meaning, but he did manage to catch up belatedly. Alex's face screwed up into a wry expression. "Don't take this the wrong way, because the other one is definitely still hot, but I prefer my Fatale. As far as I'm concerned, she's the original, and there's no improving on it."
Pam smiled and tightened her arm around his waist briefly as she let her illusion fall away, revealing her normal, blue, appearance. "You're full of it, Summers," she said in response, then made a shooing gesture towards the expanse of desert before them. Which didn't have a single place where anyone could fucking get locked up, in any way. It wasn't, she reflected, a bad choice. Other than the heat, anyway. "Go. Shoot cactii or something."
He leaned in to plant a quick peck on her cheek, then stepped away, plasma energy already coalescing around his forearms. "You're the best," he said, jogging a short distance away and looking for a random rock formation to blast to rubble. This was exactly what he needed, right then.