The fog moved. Their conflict gave it an unnatural life. A swirling slow moving twister of vivid colors. They went for the eyes first, blinding Kenna at every opportunity. Then the skin, peeling back the layers in marvelous spirals. Flaying with such speed and efficiency that not even the eruptions of heated vapor bursting forth from the flesh could catch them.
Kenna took it all. With gritted teeth she endured the desecration of her anatomy. Fighting every instinct she had to push back. Holding onto the thought that this desperate cry for authority wasn't worth the validation. The reservoir was but a puddle of its former self but Kenna banked that it was at least enough to prove how pointless the conflict was.
It wasn't until the reservoir ran dry did Kenna realize how poorly she invested. Even a light toeing of the ground around her found nothing but the dry clotted detritus normally hidden from view. She was running dry and beginning to regress as her body committed to keep her alive over large. Pride gave way to panic. Calm to carelessness. She thrashed about with weight. Kicking up the earth, waking the wind, rippling through all that could be felt.
All in vain. The show went on. It wouldn't stop. It couldn't stop. Even missing most of her claws, even as the light dimmed and flickered, even as her heart skipped beats the performance continued. Stopping was poison. A hesitation that was not tolerated. Every resting breath would have been a temptation for Franny to take another. Punishing herself for even the thought she sped up the tempo. Taking risks that brought her closer to the edge of a knife.
Kenna never had to fight, not like this. In her element she was invincible, a master of her domain. Control was a thought, a whim without resistance. This was a nightmare realized. In a crest of her power Franny was dragging her back down into the primal fear. Back into the black labyrinths where she found even the broken could still break.
Feeling along the bridge of her nose she found where bone met the cartilage and squeezed. The pressure built until she hit the point that most people would stop. Then she went further, breaking it. It hurt, even more than if it had been from external force. Something about the self mutilation, the intentional betrayal of the body, the anticipation of it all amplified the sensation. Especially when she held the break in place.
Steam poured from her nose. Another hole in the leaking dam of her being, but one that had purpose. She inhaled, taking as much of the heated vapor into her as she could. Franny was quick but not unpredictable. She always went for the eyes. When Kenna opened them they met Franny's. It was a brief moment and yet it felt stretched far beyond its time. They were taken back at the sight of the other. Because despite where they were when the struggle began they had both found each other emotionally.
The fury of Kenna's exhale hit her like a moist flamethrower. Sending the already exhausted Morlock pair into the dried cracked mud of the earth. When Kenna ran out of breath she inhaled even deeper for a second squall. By the time she ran out of breath again she was no longer of any considerable size. The act burned up whatever excess she had left, and had reduced Franny to even less than that. When the vapors cleared her friend was nothing but a curled pile of squirming meat.
At first she was excited. Franny had been a mountain to her. An unstoppable force that given enough time could accomplish any goal she set herself upon. In the short time she had known her Franny had gone from genocide survivor to functional member of the X-men. An aggressive leap that few could or would take. She had overcome an endless fountain of potential!
Trembling, she was trembling, Franny was trembling. Gasping for life, every cell of creation in her body bubbling together screaming in agony. A life unlived, another name for the spector to spit at her, another careless mistake.
Kenna ran, tripping along the way to the body. The closer she got the worse it looked. It was just steam, hot steam. She was only trying to make her stop. Why wouldn't she stop? "Help!" Kenna cried into the mist. It was all she could do. For everything that she was, she was nothing. A scared child. A…
Further inspection of the red corpse that she was crying over found that it wasn't Franny. The shape was vaguely humanoid, and the fused flesh had hidden some of the more detailed features, but there were seams. Like what laid before her was several severely burned creatures trying to impersonate Franny. This confused her on many levels, but not as much as when it exploded.
A furious Franny had burst forth from under the fake Franny into a flurry with limp wings flopping to and fro. Throwing knees and elbows often and frequently all over Kenna's very strikable body. It was a textbook beating showcasing all of the basics of close quarters combat. Between the well thought out blows Kenna took time to appreciate that Franny wasn't dead. Bruised, bloodied, and burned, but not dead. Celebrating the fact with triumphant collapse in defeat.
Without even a pause to bathe in her victory Franny grabbed a leg for dragging, or she tried. Kenna was heavy, and all of the chemical cocktails she had been using as crutches were wearing off. She pulled even harder. Digging her heels so deep into the dirt she slid backwards onto the ground, still pulling as hard as she could.
"Franny, are you okay?" asked Kenna.
"During the interrogation you will tell them that you were a different person," said Franny.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't think that was going to work at all let alone as well as it did."
"That something takes over you. That you fundamentally change when you use your mutation. That you cannot be held responsible for what you do when you're up there. If the Hulk can get away with it, so can you."
"That's not going to work."
"Yes it will, because that's what happened."
"They'll know I'm lying, everybody does."
"Then what was that Kenna!? Why did that just happen!?"
"You weren't listening to me."
"Oh I heard you. Did you hear me when I said we needed to go?"
"Yes?... No? It's not that simple. You wouldn't understand."
"You were experiencing a mutative psychosis."
"No, I'm not crazy. It's just different up there. At some point everything just feels so far away. To the point that whatever was going on doesn't even feel real anymore."
"That's basically the definition of a psychosis."
"But I'm still in control! I'm still aware! I'm still me!" said Kenna.
"But you're not! Ever since you talked with Mirage you've been completely unhinged. Did she do something to you?" asked Franny.
"Who?"
"Danielle!"
"The counselor?"
"Yes!"
"No?"
"You always look away when you're lying."
"What?"
"Figured it out when you said you were here for a cheap degree."
"It sounded good at the time."
"Now that I've been completely honest with you. Will you please be completely honest with me?" asked Franny. Kenna played with the dirt. Letting it run through her fingers as the sun slowly rose over the horizon. Hoping there was maybe some moisture still remaining in its earthiness. She didn't want to talk. Not that she denied the words that loomed heavily in her mind, but to say them out loud. To give them shape, would brand her forever.
"I'm a coward Franny," Kenna struggled to say.
"Did she say that to you? That's just mean."
"The world's too big."
"Well yeah, but it's always been that way."
"No, it was already big before but now there's us, and aliens, and magic, and death bird priest taxi drivers."
"And time travel," Franny said under her breath angrily.
"It's only going to get worse," Franny scratched the back of her neck, "And I'm afraid."
"I'd be worried if you weren't."
"But that's the thing. Up there I'm not. I feel safe, and somewhere deep within me I've decided that I'm not going to give up that feeling. Even if it means that people are going to get hurt."
"You don't say," said Franny, looking over herself.
"Are you alright?" she asked, feeling guilty over the timing of the question.
"Does it look like I'm alright?"
"No."
"What gave it away? Is it the burns, the tremors in my hands, or perhaps you noticed parts of me are missing."
"To be fair you were trying to kill me." Franny gave a weak laugh.
"That's funny. You're funny. No, that whole show was not us trying to kill you. Don't get me wrong. I thought about it. Had a whole plan too. I was going to pop right through your eye and blend your brains into a smoothie. I wouldn't have even needed Mazey for it."
"Who's Mazey?" Franny glanced back at the smoldering pile of flesh.
"Don't worry about it."
"She was the fake Franny wasn't she?"
"She was also one of the few Morlocks left."
"I'm sorry."
"Yes, you are. Now get up." Disturbances in the dirt made their way towards them. The faint outline of a man bled through the fog. The reanimated taxi driver approached, cracking his joints back into place. "Oh shit."
"That's the guy!" Kenna yelled, pointing aggressively.
"No it's not!"
"The guy I showed you!"
"Fuck me no it's not!"
"Yes it is! Fuck you it is!" She yelled getting herself back up.
"Why didn't you tell me he wasn't dead!?"
"I did!"
"Why didn't you tell me better!?"
"What should I have said Franny!? What combination of 'he's not dead' should I have used!?"
Franny struggled to her feet. With what little she had left she attempted to make herself look as threatening as possible. Her wings were sore and lacked animation, preventing any hope for speed. Between all of her appendages only three claws remained severely reducing her ability to lacerate. Even what little glow she could persuade from her lure light would not be enough for any tactical advantage. What little hope she had left laid with her teeth, but with what strength she had left she feared she would not be able to finish anything she started.
His gray vestments wrapped back around him in impossible ways while he picked up speed. Each hand summoning crescent blades to grip. The closer he got the more Franny realized there was nothing she could do to stop him, by herself. "Kenna!" Franny cried.
"What!?" replied Kenna.
"Does your thing work with blood!?"
"I don't know!"
"It's water!"
"Only sort of!"
"I guess we'll find out!" said Franny, creating a deep gash in her palm. She was so preoccupied with the act that she didn't have time to react when Kenna had been hit twice. Both blades flew at her from a different direction, neither of which was direct. One lodged itself back into her leg. The other caught the neck. Franny could only catch her on the way down. Placing her bleeding hand over a gushing throat. The weight of Kenna's collapse proved too much for her exhausted limbs, sending them both back to the ground. With nothing left to give Franny did the only thing that felt right before they died. The act caught their aggressor off guard, slowing him to a stop.
"Seriously?" asked the taxi driver.
"It's called the solar eclipse," said Franny with her pants down.
"You're mooning me?"
"Yeah get fucked asshole," Kenna gurgled blood trying to add something, "Shutup Kenna you're dead." The taxi driver sighed.
"Cristina Balakrishna, Harland Dekel, Alexander Amir."
"And those are?"
"People you've murdered."
"That's all?!"
"By no means."
"I was about to say, did I just maim all those people? I feel like what I normally do to people kills them at least eighty-five percent of the time."
"Francine Waites may your meeting with death be a miserable one."
"Jayesh Bernard, Arthur Sven, Angelo David," interrupted Coulson's drone. It descended from above them attempting to get between the two parties, "Do those names sound familiar to you?" The taxi driver backhanded the device, shattering it across the dry dirt. "We're aware of who you are Marc," the drone's speaker crackled, "Steven will be getting up soon, and you're a long way from home."
The taxi driver's mystical garbs were thick and layered, but anybody could tell underneath it all he was conflicted. His attention darted between the broken drone, the mutants that laid helplessly before him, and a third party that while unseen and silent had a lot to say. Before disappearing in a cloud of dust and fog he muttered something to them.
"Did you catch that?" asked Franny. Kenna gurgled more blood. "Yeah me neither."
"He said 'Chag Sameach'," said the barely functioning electronic.
"Which means?"
"Happy holidays." The two exhausted mutants had an entire conversation with their body language before coming to the same conclusion that they had completely forgotten that Christmas was a holiday and that it was now. "What's your status Glow-Stick?"
"Peachy," Franny said with a groan.
"Would you kindly pull up your pants then."
"Okay, but Kenna's been naked this entire time and nobody seems to care." Kenna gurgled blood with aggravation. "You don't get an opinion."
"What about the team member designated Patch-Work?"
"She got pretty fucked up but she's fine." Kenna gurgled blood with confusion. "I wanted you to think she was dead." Kenna gurgled with greater confusion. "Yeah don't know where she was either and we definitely could have used the help. She probably just left after you boiled ninety-nine percent of her alive."
"What's the enhanced variant's status?"
"Stable? I don't know. She's responsive, but she's also lost a lot of blood. If you could manage to get somebody to roll a few bottles of water down here I think she'll be fine."
"We'll consider it."
"So what's the damage?"
"Extensive."
"How important was this reservoir?"
"Very."
"Fuck."
"However, thanks to the attention the media has been giving to the Mandarin and Iron man conflict this should be fairly easy to sweep under the rug."
"How's that been going?"
"It's classified."
"You know the X-men have their own Intelligence methods right? I'll find out eventually."
"Perhaps, but not from me."
"Damn, well if you can give us a ride or let us borrow a car we'll get out of your hair."
"Sending a team now."
"Glow-stick this is Sage, remain calm," said Tessa telepathically.
"They should be getting there so-," said the Coulson drone before it cut out.
"You need to calmly but quickly pick up Cloud-cover and move in your seven o'clock direction for five-hundred meters," said Tessa.
"What why!? Were you here the whole time!?" asked Franny telepathically.
"There are Shield agents aggressively moving in on your position with intent to kill. I highly recommend you relocate." The bleeding, beaten, burned, and downright exhausted mutants exchanged their bewildered looks. Neither could stand on their own. Only by their own strange version of the three legged race did they manage to hobble anywhere.
"Tessa, come in. What about my team?" asked Franny telepathically.
"I'm working with them as well. Focus on your immediate elements."
"Most of them were incapacitated. Get Mazey to juice Crystal and it might force the toxin through her system. Yuuto might already have-."
"Glow-stick maintain radio discipline."
"We're using a telepathic channel. Who's listening?"
"Using Cerebro in this capacity creates a loud telepathic broadcast. In short, anybody who even possesses mild cognitive abilities."
"Help!" Franny yelled telepathically.
"I understand the situation is desperate, but you're doing good. Just another four-hundred and sixty-two meters before you get to the rendezvous point."
"Why is it so far away!"
"This point was determined using a variety of factors including both your current medical statuses and Blue team's ability to get to you."
"Blue team!? You woke Blue team!? Where's Illyana!? Fuck! I mean Magik!?"
"Gold team is deployed currently."
"She can teleport! Like fucking anywhere! Get her ass over here!" Franny yelled out loud. Kenna had lost so much blood at this moment she hardly noticed. Dizzy and disoriented it was the best she could do to keep the rhythm of their three legged race going.
Shots echoed behind them kicking up small patches of dirt. There wasn't even going to be a conversation. No talking their way out of this one, and no running either as Kenna finally collapsed from exhaustion. "Sage Cloud-cover is down I don't think I can get her any further," there was no response, "Sage come in!"
Franny could see them forming in the mist behind her. Bright muzzle flashes followed by men with tactical gear. The longer she stared the more the more detailed they became. "Please," she said to herself, "Anybody."
"Who are you?" asked another telepath. The sound of her voice was bitter yet intoxicating. Much like the coffee she drank many hours ago. The men that had run so quickly to kill them had stopped as well. Struggling to move their bodies.
"Fran-" Franny tried to say before her mouth stopped working.
"Let's hear them first," said the new voice, "You, who are you?"
"She's a telepath, remember your training," the first man said before he shot himself. While his face was hidden beneath protective headgear and sensory enhancing equipment he seemed surprised that his arms moved the way they did before performing the act. His fellow squadmates also seemed quite surprised by the sudden life decision.
"Who are you?" the new voice asked the next man.
"Agent Throton," said the next man before he shot himself.
"Who are you?" the new voice asked yet again.
"Phillip Saul," the next man answered before he shot himself.
"Who are you?" the new voice kept asking.
"Hail Hydra," the next man answered before he shot himself. Franny watched in horror as this pattern of questioning continued the same way until there was no one left.
"Now, my sweet summer's child. Who are you?"
"Yours," said Franny.
"Correct."
Franny left. Without another word. Without another thought. Without Kenna. She wasn't there to witness the black jet arrive. She wasn't there to see Kenna slowly, but safely, rise into the air. To be pulled into the jet by telekinetic means. To be given the blood of an already squeezed Angel. To be questioned endlessly about the events that happened that Christmas morning on the way back.