At The Gate (Pietro & Typhoid)

[skids]

Sally Blevins, now known as merely Skids, woke with an audible gasp in a darkened alley of New York City, a hand on her shoulder. Erg stood over her, his face a mask of concern. “Skids,” he whispered. “It’s me.”

Shaking off the nightmare of the memory that had her banished from the only home she’d known since her powers manifested, she groaned, rubbing her eyes, “Erg? What are you doing here? If Masque finds out you’ve been-“

“Masque is dead,” Erg interrupted. “He led an attack against the traitor, Typhoid, and never came back. Neither did the others. They completely trashed the building they were in, and now the cops are gunning for the Morlocks.”

Skids shook her head. “I’m not a Morlock, Erg,” she said. “Masque banished me months ago.”

Erg mirrored her movement, frantic to make her understand. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “All homeless mutants are being targeted. You’ll be easy now that you’re alone.”

Frightened now, Skids asked, “What do I do? I can’t go back to the Morlocks; they’ll kill me.”

“Find Typhoid,” Erg suggested. “She may be able to help you.”

“Typhoid?” Though Skids had never met the traitorous Morlock personally, she’d heard stories about her. She was sent to the Xavier Institute to destroy its leader, the powerful telepath Charles Xavier. But she didn’t; instead, she joined the X-Men. Some said she had been brainwashed. Others, like Masque, held her responsible for the massacre the Morlocks had suffered during Project: Wideawake.

Erg nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Word has it she’s still at the Xavier Institute. You know how to get there?” Skids nodded. “Good,” he said. “You better get going, though, before the cops catch you here.”

Nodding, Skids got to her feet. “Thanks, Erg,” she said, embracing him. “I’ll see you again sometime.”

Blushing a darker tinge of green, Erg nodded and slunk off to the sewer entrance nearest them. Skids watched him disappear, making sure he was safe, before heading for the only safe haven mutants had in New York: the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters.

******************************************************

Skids made it to Westchester, New York in record time; she loved being able to move without friction. One reason she didn't want to be caught by the cops; they'd cure her for sure and stick her in a cell until who knew when.

Once there, the Institute wasn't difficult to find. However, the wee hours of the morning made getting in rather difficult. She supposed she could slip over the fence, but she didn't want to risk trespassing. That would have the same outcome of being caught by the cops, only her arrest would be guaranteed.

What to do? She skidded unconsciously from side to side, debating.

[Pietro Maximoff]

::Pietro had been working night shifts fairly frequently as of late; he and Clint had drawn duty, and as he would not sleep a full night as it was, he considered it little loss. He had only returned to the mansion a few minutes ago, and had not gone about changing from his uniform. Instead he had poured himself a glass of juice, and then decided to go about a security sweep before changing and retiring for the night. With a flashlight in hand, he began his sweep of the grounds.::

[skids]

Skids had decided that, if rumors of Charles Xavier were true, he wouldn't call the cops on her. Though she wasn't a hundred percent positive, she still felt she was taking a risk. But, better to risk trespassing on someone known to take in stray mutants than to get caught by the humans; a car had driven by where Skids stood, and she was nervous because of it. So, she hopped the fence, landing on her feet inside the grounds of the Xavier school. So far, so good. Now, how to get in touch with Typhoid? It was times like these when Skids wished she were a telepath.

[Pietro Maximoff]

::Pietro had been crossing towards the gate as part of the nightly round, when he saw movement and the light flash as part of the security lines. Someone was here, and he wasn't pleased. Running over, quick as mercury, he found himself face-to-face with the intruder, and he shone his light in his eyes.:: "Hands in the air."

[skids]

Skids blinked at the sound of a voice and the blinding light of a flashlight. She'd been checking her surroundings, making sure no one was near; how had this man gotten to her so quickly? She had just checked that side and no one had been near her. The darkness didn't guarantee that, of course, but she'd been sure. She would have seen the flashlight, at least, right?

Doing as the voice said, she slowly, shakily, raised her hands in the air.

[Pietro Maximoff]

::Seeing compliance with the first problem, Pietro took a step closer to her.:: "Drop any weapons you might have."

[skids]

Skids blinked again. Was he kidding? Still, she wasn't going to take any chances. She placed her hands, palm out, in front of her, signifying she had no weapons. But, so he didn't misunderstand, she clarified verbally. "I'm not armed." She had to congratulate herself; her voice only quavered slightly.

[Pietro Maximoff]

::Her voice and the light confirmed that the intruder was...a girl. A child. Instinctively, he did not like fighting or accusing children, but as the Brotherhood more often than not consisted entirely of children, with Magneto pulling the puppet strings, he could not immediately rule her out as a threat. As such, he demanded,:: "Who are you?"

[skids]

Gulping, she replied, her voice a lot shakier now, since she didn't want to give away who she was to some guy who may or may not help her, "S-skids. M-my name is Skids." Then, figuring it couldn't hurt, she decided to tell him why she was here. "Please," she said. "I don't want any trouble. I'm looking for someone; a woman called Typhoid."

[Pietro Maximoff]

::There was the fact that Pietro was protective of Rossignol because she was his girlfriend and thus a member of the family. Added to that, there was the fact that he knew people were infrequently after her, and having an intruder declare a desire to see her was a quick way to raise his suspicions. She hardly advertised being here, as she was not Uncle or Ororo, was a student not a teacher.:: "Why are you looking for this woman?"

[skids]

"I..." Skids hesitated. How much to say? Not a lie; she didn't lie well as it was. This guy didn't seem to gullible enough to actually believe her if she tried. So, she merely said, "I think she can help me."

[Pietro Maximoff]

::That was quite suspicious, again, as Rossignol hardly advertised her presence here. Pietro lowered the flashlight, simply because it would inhibit his hands if he needed to use them. Speaking incredulously, he asked,:: "You think a woman named Typhoid can help you, not the owners of this property?"

[skids]

That made her pause. Unprepared to answer this particular question, Skids began to unconsciously skate from side to side, something she did when she was nervous or trying to avoiding getting hit. He'd lowered the flashlight, thankfully, though she was still slightly blinded by the lingering spots it had created. "I-I don't know," she confessed. "I just need to talk to Typhoid."

[Pietro Maximoff]

::Pietro shifted his weight, as she began to move from side to side; he was prepared to grab her if necessary, although he recognized a nervous gesture when he saw it. He tended to bounce on the balls of his feet. Not giving her further chance to mull over the question, he asked another,:: "Why? What do you need help with?"

[skids]

Unsure of what to say, she said the first thing that popped into her head. "She's a Morlock," she blurted, snapping her lips closed at the admission. After all, she still didn't know who this man was or what his relationship to the former Morlock was. "I-I mean, she was," she tried to clarify. "She can help me."