Being a Mutant Teenager is Hard and No One Understands [complete]

[Svetlana Ustinov]

"Ublyudok!" Lana spat, not caring if he or anyone else in the vicinity understood. She couldn't have stopped the invective if she'd tried to.

Chestnut eyes flashed instantly to a blazing gold, while her fingers curled into tight fists. She shook with the effort of holding back her energy, and failed as it began rippling across her skin, starting with her hands.

"Why would we listen to mutants who would murder their own kind? To the ones who would slit the throat of a four year old little boy and dump him in a ditch by the side of the road? Why the fuck should I listen to anything you have to say?"

Shifting, Lana pushed at Alex to let her out of the booth because she wasn't certain she could hold herself back. She shuddered under the effort of containing the rage and sorrow that the memory of that night brought back. Of being so weak she couldn't move to help Mikhail and Piotr when they were in danger. Of listening to Mikhail scream for his parents and for her.

[Alex Kaine]

Alex snapped his eyes on Lana in shock. Oddly enough, Tron had pretty much the same reaction.

"What - Lana, what are you talking about?"

[Svetlana Ustinov]

"Eight years ago in Saint Petersburg, the Brotherhood was trying to bring my parents into the fold. Would have been quite the coup...the influx of money, the FSB secrets, and three mutant children. But they resisted. Dug in their heels and put alot of thought and discussion into the matter. Alot of arguing...I'd never heard my mother and father have screaming matches like that before."

Lana took a deep breath and stared down at her hands, watching the sunlight course across her skin. "They had finally made a decision. Finally came to the conclusion that the Brotherhood was the best fit for their morals and ideals. They only had to call Saladin to make it official. But that's when it happened. Three of them broke into our house one night, to kidnap one of us to force my parents to a decision. My father said they were looking for me but found Mikhail and Piotr's room first. They grabbed Mikhail and ran. I can still hear him screaming for our parents...and for me. But they weren't home, and I was too weak to move to help him."

Glancing back over to Tron, her fingers unfurled as she grabbed the edge of the table, the heat of her energy warping it. "But they weren't prepared and they couldn't soothe him. And they didn't know how to control his abilities...he and Piotr both had already started showing signs of their gifts. When he proved too much for them to handle, they slit his throat and dumped him in a ditch by the side of the road as they fled Saint Petersburg."

[The Brotherhood]

Tron, to his credit, looked very nearly as horrified as Alex, but only for a moment. He gripped the wireless network interface in his hand, and his eyes glazed over and started juddering as he searched the Brotherhood mission files for operations in Saint Petersburg around 2001.

"No," he said at last. "I think you've got some facts wrong, sister. Saladin wasn't even working in Russia back in 2001. It was a mutant by the name of Czernobog heading up the Russian cell, the Bratstvo. Whatever your beef is, it ain't with Saladin."

[Alex Kaine]

Alex still felt as if the floor had been pulled out from under him - since Lana had begun speaking, he had a sinking feeling in his chest that hadn't stopped, like a dream where you're falling an impossible distance and it's not the thought of hitting the ground that scares you but the thought of never landing again. This was the second time he'd heard a personal story that cast serious doubt on the morality of the Brotherhood, but this one was even more personal, and even more sickening.

"Wait, but you're saying it still happened?" Alex said in disbelief. "That the Brotherhood kidnapped and murdered... oh my God."

He reached over to lay a hand on Lana's arm, but he didn't even know how you comforted someone for something like this.

[Svetlana Ustinov]

"That...that can't be right. Papa said it was Saladin...all these years. He wouldn't lie to me. He...he might not like me, but he wouldn't lie to me. No. You have to be wrong."

Lana blinked and sat back confusion warring with the anger in her features as she let go of the table and instead took hold of Alex's hand.

[The Brotherhood]

Tron sighed. There went a perfectly good recruitment opportunity - he could dig into the files and press the matter with more details, but it wouldn't change the girl's eight-year-old preconceptions, so it would just be his word against hers, and who was Alex going to choose in that contest? No, the kid was a regular zealot. Given time, he'd be back.

"Look, I can only tell you what the records tell me," he said. "For what it's worth, I'm really sorry that happened. I can guarantee it wasn't what the Brotherhood intended. Hey, Alex."

The kid looked back up, and Tron dug a USB stick out of his pocket and tossed it to him. "Take that as a peace offering. I know your sister's at the Jozua Clinic. There's some information there about the clinic I think you ought to know."

[Alex Kaine]

Alex fumbled for the memory stick before he could trap it against the tabletop with his free hand. His eyes burned back at Tron. "What do you know about my sister?"

[The Brotherhood]

"Not much," Tron replied. "But we know the Jericho Foundation is no friend to any mutant. We're fighting them, and other organizations like them, all over the world. If you want to get involved, there's contact information on that stick. It's your call, brother. Enjoy the night."

Tron slid out the other end of the booth and slouched down the stairs, disappearing into the mass of bodies below.

[Cameron Bell]

Back in the booth...

Hunched statuesque like a prowling panther, Cameron hissed tremulous breaths against Aimee's shimmering breast, and locked her eyes in a ferocious gaze. A moment longer, his chest heaved against her unyielding body, and then his face melted into a wide grin. Head drooping against her shoulder, he shook with silent laughter and heard Aimee reciprocate her own tinkling notes of amusement. Tension escaped in torrents, leaving him feeling giddy from the heady release. And finally, he surrendered ground and sat upright in the curved booth, snaking an arm around his oversexed partner-in-crime. His phone screen bathed a wicked smile in pale blue light:

"I'm afraid I cannot be held responsible for my behaviour around you."

[Aimee Connors]

Aimee giggled, taking a moment to try to make some sense of her mass of black hair. "I could say the same about you." She snuggled against his side, legs crossed demurely in front of her.

His arm was a comfortable weight on her shoulders, and she put her hand on his leg, her palm sticking just slightly to his knee. Aimee sighed, wondering how exactly she'd never guessed that Cameron had feelings for her before. Not that she was complaining! "I think I need another drink."

She looked up at him, wide-eyed innocence. "Last one, I swear!" She giggled again.

[Cameron Bell]

A bustling crowd swarmed the bar, and through it Cameron cut a path which was swift and frought with needless intimacy, but with Aimee in tow, the tight squeeze was a bonus. In his hand her fingers were small, and delicate, but the warm strength in them felt like a quiet declaration of ownership. It made him smile and he pulled her in close once they reached the front of the jostling rabble. From her face he swept a silken strand of hair, chin cradled between thumb and forefinger he tilted her head to steal a kiss, eyes closed and lips parted with full expectation, and she was pecked on the end of the nose instead. Cameron recieved a stiff elbow to the gut for his trouble.

Once the drinks were bought, they found a spot away from the chaos and watched the masses under the pretense of searching for their friends. Stood behind Aimee, Cameron caught the scent of citrus shampoo and folded against her back, around her waist an arm coiled. She was making short work of the beer, he observed, the irony of which did not go unnoticed. He, on the other hand, raised his bottle to drink and casually tipped mouthfuls over his shoulder.

[Aimee Connors]

Two beers was plenty when your tolerance was down from not drinking for almost a year, and especially when you were all of five foot nothing, and a hundred pounds soaking wet. Aimee giggled to herself at that last thought, blissfully aware of Cameron's arm about her waist and his tall presence at her back.

The music was a dance remix of some popular song, and not a terribly good one at that, but all she could feel was the thud of the bass. Her heart seemed to sync up with it as her buzz deepened into something closer to drunk, swaying to the rhythm of the song. She blinked, searching the crowd for their other two friends, but the flashing lights were playing havoc with her night vision, or maybe it was just the beer.

Anyway, who cared where Alex and Lana were? Probably in some corner slow dancing like no one else was in the room. Aimee drained her drink, handing it to Cameron to dispose of, and he artfully caused it to disappear. She leaned back against his chest and looked up to talk to him. "What do you want to do now?"

[Cameron Bell]

Discarding his empty bottle with a telltale clang of glass, Cameron fished out his phone and wrapped a second arm around Aimee. In the embrace, she was able to see the answer as it appeared on the bright screen:

"You."

[Aimee Connors]

Aimee wiggled in his grasp, and turned around so she was facing him, ringed by his strong arms. His bold proclaimation had raised a blush in her cheeks, a stain of darker purple against the plum. "I don't ususally... on a first date..." but she stood on her toes in her borrowed shoes and kissed him lightly on the lips, then a little more firmly in a way that boozily promised more.

Her body wasn't concerned with the logistics, and her brain was swimming with alcohol as she pressed herself against him. Alex and Lana were effectively forgotten under a barrage of hormones.

[Cameron Bell]

Cameron reciprocated Aimee's tender kiss enough to keep her entertained, and granted free reign of his lips, face, neck, and shoulders, while his eyes roamed. One hand caressed the small of her back. The other rummaged discreetly though her purse. It wasn't long before his fingers found purchase on what he was looking for and from its velvety folds he unearthed a sleek celphone. Gingerly, he positioned it behind Aimee's shoulder, allowing him to see what he was doing in his state of tongue-twisted compromise. It took long-practiced fingers but a moment to compose the text, a brief interlude of ravenous hair-raking delayed his efforts, but once he was free to continue, Cameron found Alex on the contacts list, and sent the message:

"had gr8 nite. leavn wit cam. c u tom."

The phone was then turned off and replaced safely where it belonged.

[Aimee Connors]

She finally pulled back, dropping her head against his chest while the room turned lazily around her. After a moment Aimee realized they were moving, Cameron guiding her gently towards the door, tucked in protectively under his arm.

She slid a hand across the small of his back and settled it into the far back pocket of his jeans. And then they were outside, a cool rush of fresh air on her face, and she was laughing again for some reason. "Hey, watch this," Aimee said, looking around and finding that they were alone on a sidewalk. She didn't know where they were going, but then, she didn't care either.

She released Cameron, tottering a bit on her heels before she crouched down and fumbled with the straps, freeing her feet from the torturous fashion devices. "Here, hold onto these... Lana would kill me if I lost 'em." Wait, where was Lana? She looked down the street but couldn't see the blonde girl anywhere.

No matter!

Aimee giggled again, and darted over to the street light nearest them. "Watch!" And then she started climbing up, the dress she was wearing already short enough that she wasn't concerned about it hindering her movement. At the top she stopped, one hand and both soles of her feet clinging to the metal, and looked down. "Betcha can't do that!"

[Cameron Bell]

It was a strange spectacle to behold, given the place and time, but as Cameron watched Aimee conquer the tall street lamp, an amused grin crept across his face. There was no mystery to the nature of her mutation, life at Redención House ensured that, where the bog-stanard ice-breaker was "What's your thing?" But to finally see the magenta mutant in gravity-defying action sparked a thrill of wonder, and pride. It was regretful, however, that she'd chosen to show off in the thick of a drunken stupor.

Consequently, Cameron positioned himself at the base of the street lamp; he cut a curious figure, stood in its lonely spotlight clutching a pair of dazzling stiletto shoes. He cast his gaze skyward. There was the silver lining afforded his strategic position, courtesy of Aimee and her skirt, perched daintily atop the light. A ring of melodious laughter, and she started to sway and dip in time with the ambient throb of music from the club. He stood dumbfounded, basking in the glory of Aimee's precarious pole dance, tantalized by shadows and silk. Then, in a moment of lapsed reaction, her balance wavered and her body dipped heavily to one side. Rigid with anticipation, Cameron gave an urgent wave, summoning her back down to earth.

[Aimee Connors]

Aimee clutched at the street lamp as she moved one of her feet too soon and lost her balance. Peering down under her arm she could see Cameron waving at her to come down, and she belatedly decided that was probably wise.

"Coming!" she called, shaking her head to get her hair out of her face, which unfortunately made her a little dizzy. She nimbly began her descent, stopping about two feet off the ground, looking down at Cameron as the world swam a bit around them. Putting out a hand, Aimee rested it on his shoulder, and then transferred her weight from the lamp post to him, wrapping her legs around his waist and giggling.

[Cameron Bell]

The weight of relief was decidedly heavier than Aimee's entire body. He tangled an arm around her waist and dove into her lips, wild stawberries with a faint aftertaste of beer. Wolf whistles pierced the air from across the street where a group of young men skulked from a takeout, arms full. Breaking away irritably, Cameron eased Aimee onto her feet and pulled her close in a half-embraced, they took off down the street arm-in-arm.

Conversation was, by neccessity, minimal as they walked. The night was pleasant and calm, but a skimpy dress provided no compensatation for the dramatic drop in temperature and so, at first sight, Cameron hailed an empty taxi cab. Once inside, he provided the driver directions using his celphone and curled up next to Aimee on the back seat.