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X-Future Snippets: Trying Out The Obstacle Course

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WARNING:
Following story
IS canon.
Minor spoilers about Devon and Trish unless you know the dynamic between those two and have read about the Purifier Raid.

Rated M for mild violence and Trish's Potty-Mouth...


Trish entered the ginormous, vacant warehouse that The Brotherhood acquired for their home base. She walked through the smaller room at the entrance and back to the main storage section. The room was the size of an airplane hanger, and built in the center of it was a large fort-like building. It was about fifteen feet tall, forty feet wide, and stretched back fifty feet. The entrance and exit doors for the obstacle course were along the same wall, and were only ten feet from each other. The door on the right was green with the word "Enter" written across it. To its left was a red door with "Exit" in big letters; clarification to try to prevent confusion among the simpler-minded members of The Brotherhood. Set in the wall between the two doors was a large button and a clock: a timer that the member had to hit upon entering and exiting the course. Taped below the timer's button was a sealed envelope with Trish's name on it. Cocking her head, she removed the letter from inside.

Hey, Sugarplum,
Really hope you enjoy the new obstacle course. This was all possible because of you. I mean, if you didn't allow that Zeke kid to trash the last one we wouldn't have ever thought to upgrade.
Also, you seem so down lately. You're already pathetic enough with the injured wing and all, I'd hate for you to go all emo on us too. So cheer up, Buttercup! Who cares if we did a few missions and pulled off a heist or three while you were on Injured Reserves? I mean, it's not like you were that crucial of a team member anyway, so don't worry about your absence holding us back.
It is a shame you've missed the Allerdyce Men working so well together though. Such bonding. I don't think Pyro even noticed you were gone.
Oh well. Maybe the new and improved obstacle course will finally make you useful (again?). I even made sure to add some extra fun in order to help train in the fantastic art of "How to Avoid Getting Shot"; just for you, Sweetie.
XOXO
- Pietro –


Steam poured out of her nose as Trish balled up the letter and envelope in her fist, quickly burning it up in a white flame. She emptied the ash on to the floor and dusted off the lingering remains before stretching her neck, sides, and arms. Her shoulder was still stiff and extremely sore as she stretched it out, but at least the blinding pain wasn't there any longer.

She hit the start button and the buzzer went off, swinging the green door open. As she stepped inside there was a loud click and the door slammed shut behind her. She heard it latch and saw a large robot activate by the exit door. The robot resembled the X-Men known as Colossus in his full metallic form. It took about four steps forward before breaking in to a full charge towards her.

Trish quickly dodged the charge. Thankfully, the large stature of the robot slowed him slightly, and Trish's small size allowed her just enough of an advantage through her nimbleness. She threw a few fireballs at the robot, but they harmlessly exploded against it. The metal glowed red for a brief moment before returning to its normal gray shine.

Great, she thought, the god damn thing is fire proof. Trish felt for her butterfly knife in her pocket, but had second thoughts about grabbing it. I'm guessing I also can't do any damage with my knife. How the fuck am I supposed to do this?

The robot continued its charge as Trish simply dodged again and again, defensively throwing more fireballs at the robot as she did. She hoped that if she hit the same spot enough times or used a hot enough flame she could maybe melt a part of her attacker. Three minutes of this dance – a couple of times the robot nearly hit her – before she gave up and instead attempted brute force. Managing to get behind the robot, she swung her left leg and kicked at its right knee with as much force as she could manage. Luckily she kicked properly – using the top of her foot – to not cause any major damage to herself, but she also didn't cause any to the metal man. Her left foot went numb from the impact and her leg began to tingle, throwing off her momentum. She cursed that her attack became more a hindrance than help against this first obstacle.

She dove out of the way of the robot a few more times; narrowly escaping. Managing to dive between the robot's legs, Trish slid across the floor and attempted to kick out both knees. Putting everything in to slamming both heels simultaneously in to her attacker's knees actually worked in her favor. It threw the robot off balance enough that another swift dual kick managed to take the giant down. In a fury she leaped on to the robot's back and tightly snaked her arms around its neck. Holding on with all her strength she managed to put enough consistent pressure against the sensor along its neck to simulate a choke hold; deactivating the robot as it crumbled to the floor.

The exit door clicked open as Trish rubbed her burning left shoulder. Giving the robot a choke hold really strained her wound. Her left foot and leg were back to normal after her misjudged kick, but now her left shoulder and arm were in extreme pain; her left hand tingling with pinpricks as if it just woke up.

Not rushing in to the next room as she massaged her shoulder proved rewarding. She slid a bit across the iced floor, but she was able to catch herself and keep her balance. The chill in the isolated room's air helped cool off her arm – soothing it – but the biting sprinkle of ice water from the ceiling stung like a bitch. Her lungs burned from breathing the freezing air, and so she started up a flame to warm herself up. It almost instantly went out due to the water fall. Cursing, she shifted her feet without lifting them off the ice: scootching across the floor. Three feet in to the room and she was shot on to her ass by a blast of freezing high-powered water streaming from the wall. A short-lived flame warmed her up briefly just before she laid flat across the ice; avoiding another water stream. She scurried to her feet, nearly spilling a few times while doing so. Two more streams shot at her, but she managed to create a firewall just long enough to shield herself from the blasts. She got spun around once as a shot hit her right shoulder, but she managed to stay on her feet the whole time.

Another five shots that she blocked with more fire shield bursts and she was about five feet from the door. One more water burst shot at her left side, but she was too drained to use fire again. Instead she dove for the exit. She slid across the ice and clawed her way up the door until she managed to open it and tumble in to the next room.

Her tongue and lungs burned from being so cold, making breathing labored. With a lot of concentration she managed to create a flame aura to warm herself up. This obstacle was simply a five-foot narrow hallway that stretched for forty feet. The room seemed bare, but Trish knew better. After warming herself for roughly thirty seconds she felt recouped enough to move on and cautiously jogged forward. Not even two feet in to the obstacle and a set of three adamantium claws that resembled short sword blades shot out from the right wall, nearly slicing her arm. She managed to jump out of the way, but instantly had to jump again as another set of claws shot up from the floor; clipping her left ankle. She tried to ignore the pain as she sprinted forward; struggling to get out of the room as quickly as possible. More claws reached for her from both sides, the ceiling, and the floor. She jumped, dodged, ducked, and pushed herself forward even faster. By the time she reached the end of the hall her left ankle, right thigh and waist, and lower back were all covered in blood from getting repetitively clipped.

She opened the door to the next obstacle and instantly dove behind the short bunker waiting at the entrance. As she did she heard the repetitive thud of ammo smacking against the bunker and walls around her. She growled as she pressed herself against the three-foot-tall bunker. "I even made sure to add some extra fun in order to help train in the fantastic art of 'How to Avoid Getting Shot'," Trish repeated the words from Pietro's letter in a mocking tone, "Fucking Quicksilver."

She peeked around the bunker to see if any of the guns needed to reload. Unfortunately there were enough guns that even when one set stopped to drop in more ammo another set was still firing. There was no downtime. The guns were all grouped by the exit; some attached to the far wall, some to the floor, and even some hung from the ceiling. They ranged from pistols to assault riffles to shrapnel shotguns designed off of the "souvenir" Devon had picked up from the attack on the Purifiers. To help simulate the different calibers, the guns fired a barrage of rock-salt, rubber, and air-soft bullets.

Trish attempted to poke up above the bunker just enough to set the guns on fire. As with the Colossus robot, they were strong enough to survive a straight fire engulfing. Fearing her powers were still useless in this obstacle course, she switched gears and simply attempted to move through the room without getting hit.

There was another bunker about four feet from her right shoulder. She tumbled forward and her clipped ankle got hit on the opposite side with an air-soft bullet. She cursed and rubbed her ankle as she hid behind the next bunker. Checking again she saw her next cover was also four feet away, but this time past her left shoulder. She dove for the bunker, making a clear sprint that time. The bunkers repeated the pattern of four feet apart and diagonal from each other. She zig-zagged between them as she made her way closer to the guns.

When there were only two bunkers left between her and the door she again attempted to throw her fireballs. Still no affect on the guns; except for one that was turned enough that Trish's fireball managed to hit the off switch on the backside.

Fantastic, she thought, how the fuck am I supposed to hit the back of any of these other ones?

Shaking her head and cursing out Quicksilver, she dove for the next bunker. Another air-soft bullet hit her, this time in the right hip just below her adamantium wound. A few more choice words before one last dive. A quick sprint to the door and she was through to the next obstacle.

She was momentarily thrown off by the extreme change in setting for the obstacle. The room was spacious; about twenty feet wide and fifteen long. The ceiling and walls were painted to look like a stormy sky. Fake trees were scattered throughout; planted in to the Astroturf coating the floor. A small stone fountain gently flowing water sat in the center of the room. Lastly, there were a few outdoor benches bolted down. The room looked like a peaceful garden or park.

That is, except that it was set up to feel like a hurricane. A series of small drains scattered under the Astroturf emptied out the massive amount of water that poured down from the ceiling's sprinkler system. The blinding "rain" was made worse by massive wind machines blowing full blast, making the water fall almost sideways. To make things even more chaotic, the room was also covered in debris of fallen leaves, dirt, and small sticks that got kicked up by the wind.

There was light shining through four windows on the opposite end of the room. They were hard to see among the chaos, but it was the only light in the room aside from the strobe lighting that was supposed to represent lightning. The windows ranged in size and the wall they were nestled in resembled the outside of an office building; instead of the stormy sky that the rest of the walls were painted to depict. Clearly those windows were Trish's exit and she sprinted for them.

Sticks and leaves kept smacking her. She put her arm up to protect her face as she moved on, but the dirt hitting her open wounds stung enough for her to cry out. Pissed off, she tucked herself against one of the fake trees to provide some shelter. She scanned the room and just barely managed to see a softball-sized orb zipping along the ceiling. She pulled her knife out of her back pocket but left it closed. Focusing all of her anger at the button on the bottom of the orb, Trish hurled her knife as her target whizzed past. There was a click and then dead silence. The wind machines cut off, as did the sprinklers. Debris crashed to the floor as everything abruptly fell still.

Wonder if the real Storm was that easy to take out, she thought as she collapsed to the floor to catch her breath for a moment. Her right side was pretty beaten up, and the pain was putting a major strain on her. She fought back tears as she yelled at herself to suck it up. Taking a deep breath she sprinted for the wall of windows, scooping her knife up as she ran.

Trish eyed up the four options and wondered if it was basically the same set up as the window obstacle from the original course. There was a colossal window that stretched nearly the full height of the wall. It was also about as wide as Trish's wingspan. She knew that it was obviously designed for when Warbash or Blob ran the course. There was no way either would be able to go through any of the other three windows. The pane was closed and she wondered what prevented the smaller members of The Brotherhood from cheating and just using that large window. She picked up a stick that was beside her and touched the glass with it. Electricity flew through the moist bark of the stick and shot the piece of wood out of her hand, stinging her palm and fingertips. She yelped as she squeezed her hand tight, breathing through the new pain.

She pressed herself against the wall as three robots on the other side of the windows turned towards her. She remained still and silent, waiting for the attack. Cautiously, she turned towards the large window again. The next obstacle was set up to look like an office that had been taken over by the Purifiers. There were three robots inside dressed in Purifier uniforms. They had a small arsenal at their disposal consisting of air-soft rifles, rock-salt shrapnel shotguns, stun-guns, and short-blade daggers designed to cause "less-than-lethal" injuries. There were a few spots to hide once inside the room: a desk and a few lounge chairs.

She jumped back with a start as one of the robots again looked right at her. When she was again met with silence she wondered if the robots actually "saw" her. Curious, she stood in front of the picture window again and waited. She calculated how and where to dive against the wall once the barrage started, but nothing happened, even after the robots definitely looked right at her.

Alright, the glass doesn't seem to have the tint of a one-way mirror, Trish thought, So that must mean either they don't attack until I'm in the room, or they're activated by sound instead of sight.

Knowing that the picture window was electrified, Trish examined her other options. On the opposite end of the wall were two normal-sized dual-pane windows. Both were closed. Considering the large window was closed and electrified, Trish really didn't want to test those other two in order to determine if they were as well. She then went to the tiny window that sat between the picture window and the two dual-pane ones. It was completely open; no glass pane was fixed in it at all. It was too small to step through; just large enough for a muscular adult male to dive through it. Trish decided to use her slender build and lack of a chest to her advantage.

She easily dove through the window without hitting the frame (which happened to be electrified). The issue was the small pooling of water due to the last obstacle's "rain"; the puddle on the inside of the wall that she didn't anticipate being there. Her hand twisted as it slipped in the water, causing her finishing tumble to lose balance and crashing her hard on to her left side. The slam against her gunshot wound sent enough pain to black out her vision for a few seconds. Despite deducing that she needed to be silent in this part of the run, getting injured like that caused her to yelp again.

All three Purifier robots spun around towards her. The one on the opposite end of the room shot at her with the air-soft rifle, the one in the middle took aim with the rock-salt shrapnel shotgun, and the one closest to her whipped out two knives and charged at her.

Pushing herself up in to a crouch, she quickly dove under a nearby desk, narrowly escaping the barrage of shots. The dagger-wielding robot caught up to her fast enough and crouched down in front of the desk, slashing at her. She already had her own knife out and easily deflected the robot's. She had been in knife fights before and quickly disarmed the robot. She kicked it in the chest, knocking it off balance. She leaped at the robot and attempted to stab it in the chest - her natural reaction if this were to happen with an actual human - but at the last second she shifted her arm enough to stab the floor by the robot's neck instead.

She had realized - almost a moment too late - that the robot's metal body would have probably damaged her knife instead of the other way around. She also remembered the large sign at the entrance of the course warning against damaging any of the more expensive items. Robots were certainly more expensive. She instead pinned down the metal attacker and hoped her glorious ninety-seven pounds would be enough to hold it in place. The robot struggled, but didn't seem to put too much effort in to tossing Trish off of it. Still, the other robots were firing at her from behind, and the desk wasn't creating much of a shield any longer; the air-soft bouncing off the top of it and clipping her ears.

Ducking lower, she quickly scanned for some sort of shut off button like the choke-hold sensor the Colossus robot had. She swiftly flipped her captive and almost instantly spotted the button on the nape of its neck. With a push she heard the whirl of the robot shutting down. She scooped up the knives she knocked away from her first attacker and tossed them towards the other two robots. She made sure not to aim directly at them, but she hoped the knives would whip close enough to each of them to distract them for a moment.

Said moment of distraction was a brief one as the daggers embedded in the drywall. Trish wondered if she had to pay for minor repairs like that as she dashed behind the robot wielding the shrapnel shotgun. It let loose a few more shots as it spun around after her. The shag carpet and some of the lower portion of the adjacent wall got minor holes and tears from the rock-salt hitting at such close range, but Trish managed to avoid all of it. Like with her battle against the Colossus robot, she used her small body to her advantage as she scurried around down by the robot's feet.

She paid too much attention to the robot she was battling and took an air-soft to the back of her left hip. She cried out and glared down the final bot over by the exit door. Although the robot and gun remained fine, the Purifier costume burst in to white flames and quickly ashed; leaving the robot naked and the nearby carpet burnt. The fire seemed to have thrown off the robot just long enough for Trish to duck behind the one with the shrapnel shotgun; allowing her the time to hit the deactivation button.

She ducked behind furniture like she was back in the bunker room, dashing between them as she made her way towards the final robot. Keeping her knife closed again, she chucked it at the robot's hands, managing to hit them at just the right angle to cause the robot to drop its gun. As it bent to pick it back up she jumped out from behind a lounge chair and punched the deactivation button. It was a bit much - a simple press works - but it was satisfying to put so much force in to the one adversary that actually hit her.

She tucked her knife in to her pocket and headed in to the next obstacle. More bunkers. She threw herself against the first one and waited for more gunshots to fire since the layout was identical to the Rapid Gunfire room. This time she heard a loud, high pitched whir. The room glowed red for a moment and Trish again cursed. She peeked over the bunker and spotted an array of guns that took turns shooting off a bright red laser. Some shots were concentrated beams, others were a wide spray. The room flashed red with each shot, creating an awkward strobe effect. Trish ducked from bunker to bunker as she made her way through the room. Avoiding the shots were a lot easier than in the gun room since she had a few seconds as the guns took turns firing. She sprinted for the door and slid under the latest gun to take aim at her. Throwing her hand up she hit the deactivation button just under the barrel.

The next room was a large, padded space. Every inch of the floor, walls, and ceiling was covered in fireproof rubber; negating the use of both pyro- and electrokinesis. The rubber felt awkward to walk on at first. It was like the tracks some of the nicer high schools and colleges had in order to elevate some strain from running along them. There was a definite soldness to the floor and walls, but there was also a small bit of springiness. It was like walking in a hardened bouncy castle.

Although she moved cautiously, it wasn't long before the first baseball-sized sandbag smacked her in the side. She coughed as she crumbled a little, gripping the quickly bruising sore. There was an echo of hollow thwamps as a bombardment of sandbags was shot at her from the hidden cannons in the walls. She managed to dodge most of them and burn up others. She hunched down like a soldier under fire as she sprinted around the seven-fool-long wall that jettisoned out between the entrance and exit doors of the obstacle. Flinging the exit open, Trish got clipped in the ankle and elbow by two more sandbags before sprinting out.

She was greeted by another narrow hallway built similar to the one with the adamantium claws. The last obstacle; she could see the red door on the opposite end. Blocking her path was another throw back to the original course: the rhythm section. A long series of five-foot-tall walls with limbo bars placed between them. The goal was simple: climb over the wall and then duck under the five-foot-high bar before climbing over the next wall; repeat. The rhythm section was never a hard obstacle for her due to her height. A small jump allowed her to go over the walls, and she didn't need to scrunch down too far to snake under the bars.

Still, she was sore, tired, and fairly beaten up at that point. Her legs were pretty shot, and she feared having to push off them to jump over the walls only to then land again on the other side. The thought alone pained her, especially since it was a lot more than the set of three that was in the original obstacle course. She contemplated putting most of the work in to her arms since they weren't nearly as chewed apart, but that meant straining her injured shoulder. She was already in excruciating pain, and her left hand was still numb from acting up the nerve damage in her gunshot wounds. Regardless of how she did this last obstacle it was going to be painful.

At least it seemed like a nice cool down. Since Trish figured she was already taking about forty-five minutes to complete the course it didn't bother her too much to just take her time in this last room. The time didn't really matter any longer. She could just take the walls slowly, recover at the bottom of each one, and try a faster pace the next go.

She lazily got herself over the first wall with an awkward combination of jumping and pulling, spreading out the strain on her injuries. As she gently dropped down to the floor a flash bomb exploded at her feet, causing her to jump to the side.

"What the fuck?" She became nauseated as the sound from the bomb threw off her equilibrium and the flash temporarily blinded her. Her eyesight and hearing returned just as another flash bomb came at her from the other side and a third hit the low wall by her shoulder. Swearing again at Quicksilver, Trish sprinted under the bar and pushed herself over the next wall; half seeing and off balanced. More bombs exploded directly behind her and one nearly hit her hand as she made her way over the wall. Her ears rang from the dizzying noise of the explosions.

Avoiding the bombs while off balance caused her to land weird as she dropped back to the floor and she rolled her ankle. She spent the rest of the course relentlessly swearing as she limped under the bars, awkwardly climbed over the walls, and got hit a few times by some of the flash bombs. Her body bruised with each smack of the tiny metal objects, and she was never before more grateful that her skin couldn't be burnt. Still, the impacts massively hurt and the light and sound explosions made her even more off kilter. About half way through the wall a flash bomb exploded right in front of her, forcing a retreat. She slipped as she misjudged where the bar was behind her and she clanked the back of her head firmly against it. She stopped cursing out Quicksilver long enough to thank God that the bars were no longer electrified like they were in the original course.

It was a chaotic ten minutes, but she finally made it to the end of the course. As she hit the button for the timer she collapsed to the floor. She couldn't recall the last time she was this roughed up. Perhaps when she was first training with the Brotherhood? Maybe when she was living on the streets those first few months after discovering her powers? Either way, she knew it was going to take a day or two to heal. Trish was nearly ready to go back in to the field, and she just put herself back on the damn Injured Reserves. Fantastic.

She sat on her legs, holding herself up with her arms. Her head was down as she slowly inhaled; attempting to both catch her breath and slow down her heart rate. She whipped her head up - tossing her hair out of her face - at the sound of footsteps coming towards her.

Maybe it's Pyro! Her mind raced, he's here to scoop me up and bring me back to the dorms in order to patch me up. WAIT! Do I really want Pyro to see me like this!? Trish quickly plotted out the pros and cons of her beloved finding her this beaten up at the end of the obstacle course. Pro: he'd mend her wounds and take care of her; maybe be proud of her for attempting the course when she wasn't fully healed yet. Con: he could find her pathetic for not being able to take on a simple obstacle course, and he might find her weak and pathetic.

In the end it didn't matter if Trish decided that she did want Pyro to find her there; it was soon clear that the footsteps belonged to Devon. He had this sick smile on his face. Trish remembered seeing that twisted grin as a child when she caught the neighbor boy poking a stick at the fatally wounded squirrel he just shot. She imagined she had that own smirk on countless times since she discovered her powers. It was certainly unsettling being at the receiving end.

Devon's grin shifted from depraved to cocky as he stood over her. Playing the role of the big brother, Devon put on a higher pitched, mock sense of concern in his voice. He accentuated his mocking by pouting a little, as if he were trying to empathize with a two-year-old. "Damn, Trish. Did the Big, Bad, Obstacle run fuck your poor shit up?"

Trish scowled. Her slitted eyes appeared like they were actually on fire. Her lip twitched as it curled in to her snare. She had the look of an injured feral animal that would strike at any moment if provoked. The last person to talk to her like that was Sandy. Maybe Devon should know what happened to Trish's twin.

Placing his hands on his hips and leaning forward, Devon continued his mocking. Trish wasn't sure if it was in spite or because of the glare she gave him. "Well, don't you worry your pretty little head..."

His arrogance was too great. Trish started growling. She rocked herself back against the obstacle course's outer wall, attempting to push herself upright against it. Dear lord, this kid is asking for a beat down!

Devon wasn't paying her much attention. He was eyeing up the fortified obstacle course. The walls were windowless and so he also had no clue what twisted challenges were in store. "I'll go and take a spin though this fun new course, and then I'll take you on up and get you bandaged."

Trish spat at him, but he again didn't seem to notice; or care. Her mouth was too dry for anything significant and the little spittle landed just shy of Devon. Biting her tongue a little she continued to glare at Devon as he strode back and forth in front of the course, trying to figure out a strategy on how to take it on. I wanted Pyro, not "Flicker". There is no way I'm having HIM patch me up. Dear god, if this kid touches me I swear I'm going to vomit!

Suddenly her eyes flashed wide for a second, a grim thought ripping through her brain. No. No, no, no, no. NO! Please. PLEASE tell me HE wasn't the one who bandaged up my shotgun wounds! Anyone but him! I'd take Nys. I'd take Blob. I'd take Quicksilver. Hell, I'd even take god damn GRAHAM!

The thought nauseated her worse than the flash bombs. She swayed and slouched back against the wall. The thought of Devon touching her; cleaning her wounds; bandaging her up like a wounded puppy - probably with that cocky-ass smile; him seeing her topless while he worked; it was too much. She felt dizzy.

Devon must have just taken her swaying and slouching against the wall as simply Trish being "a weakling". He crouched down to be even with her and maneuvered his head to catch her eye line. His voice became serious; a tone Trish had yet to actually hear from the childish prankster. She wondered what was more unsettling: the idea of Devon bandaging her wounds, or him staring in to her eyes so intensely at that moment.

She pressed herself as close to the wall - and away from Devon - as she could, but he kept leaning closer until he was a few inches from her face. Oh god! she thought as she held her breath, Please, don't kiss me! PleaseDon'tKissMe, PleaseDon'tKissMe, PleaseDon'tKissMe... Trish tasted bile and choked it back down.

Devon didn't lean in enough to kiss her, but he softly confessed, "I will be perfectly honest with you though, I have no freaking clue what is going to be in there." He nodded towards the obstacle course.

Trish knew exactly what was in there and debated telling Devon, "A nice ass whoopin'... if the Universe were at least a LITTLE fair..."

He refocused his attention on her, but his voice became softer, "However, it's really all thanks to you that I can personally guarantee you that I will come out looking plenty better then you did."

Trish's face scrunched in confusion. It's because of me that he can guarantee that he won't be as beaten up once he's done!? What the FUCK does that even mean!?

Devon winked at her as he finished his statement. She again scowled at him as the taste of vomit re-invaded her mouth. She made a gagging motion as Devon gently tapped her jawline. She whipped her head away from his hand and swatted at him, but he had already stood up with a sense of superiority.

Trish rolled her eyes as Devon stood feet shoulder-width apart and his hands on his hips; chest out, like some superhero. For fuck's sake. Next he's going to want to look for his vibranium shield. Fucktard acting like he's The Cap all of a sudden. She watched him stretch to her left, just arm's reach from the start button above her head. I REALLY need to take this kid down a few pegs, she decided, But, how?

Devon looked down at Trish and told her that he'd "be right back" before hitting the start button and sprinting inside the building. Trish scooted across the floor and placed her ear against the green door, hoping to hear anything that was going on inside; any sort of indication of how well (or - preferably - how poorly) Devon was doing. The metal walls built to withstand impacts from Blob or Warbash were too thick. All she could make out was the faint sound of the Colossus robot stomping around. She hoped it was slamming Devon against the wall right about then.

Having taken enough of a cool-down (sorta) to stand again, Trish debated if she should stay or leave. On the one hand, Devon could actually be pretty roughed up by the obstacle course. Seeing him as beaten up - if not worse - as her would be so satisfying. First, she'd get to see him hurt without breaking her promise to Pyro about protecting the boy; it was Quicksilver's training that roughed the kid up, and there really wasn't any way for her to protect him. Second, it would take him down a few notches: nice, humbling experience. Third, she could smugly stand at the exit when it came to be her turn to look down and coo "oh, poor sweetie."

On the other hand, it kept her roughly an hour to make it through the course. With her legs in such bad shape (and still bleeding pretty badly) could she really linger outside the course for that long? Plus, what if he's right and he could run the course better than her; not that it's a fair challenge since she wasn't fully healed when she attempted. What if he wasn't as roughed up, or what if he even ran it faster? He'd have bragging rights and she'd be right there waiting for him to gloat! Plus there was the fact that he TOLD her to wait for him. God, what kind of mocking would she be setting herself up for if she "listened" to him? Even more so, the sheer fact that she waited to see the outcome of his run - good or bad - proved that he was her central thought. Not only Devon would have fun with that. Trish was sure Graham and Pietro would love to get in on some mocking over how tunnel-visioned she was in regards to Pyro's kid.

Then there was the worst scenario of all. What if she collapsed due to blood loss while waiting for Devon to finish? He then exits the course in good enough shape - roughed up or no - to still manage to carry her; not a hard task considering her small stature. He then swoops in to her rescue - AGAIN - as he carries her up to recovery.

Trish shuddered at the thought. "Nope. Getting the fuck out of here!" She limped her way back to the dorms. Hopefully she would find someone to help patch her up without making a "thing" out of it. If Devon gets his ass handed to him she could gloat about it later. With any luck he'd be roughed up so much that he dies in a pool of his own blood at the exit; with no one around to notice he was in there.

X-Future Snippets are free-writing one-shots that may or may not ever play out in the role play. Therefore, none of the snippets are considered "canon" in the X-Future 11616 continuity (this one being another exception).

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This 6000+ word "snippet" is in fact canon. However, the significance of this story to the overall X-Future plot is very small; therefore warranting maybe only a paragraph or two in the actual TSGB tale. Because of this I decided to go ahead and post the snippet here.

Trish is attempting to run the newest obstacle course that Quicksilver built for The Brotherhood.

All in all it seems to be a growing favorite pastime within The Brotherhood for members to just piss off Trish. Quicksilver had always been the first to taunt her; knowing that his speed and rank among The Brotherhood kept him from getting injured by her. Then when Graham was taken in, he and Trish started butting heads. He's not as playful about it as Quicksilver or Devon. We'll see how many more of the ranks start teasing the smallest member of the group, regardless of whether or not she's a bonafide psychopath.

Quick clarification for those who might not know. Pietro is Quicksilver. He's the son of Magneto and so - in our canon - he sort of inherited The Brotherhood upon his father's death. He shares command with John "Pyro" Allerdyce. Also, Trish was referencing that Devon posed as if he were Captain America at the end there; an in-canon reference that is also a little poke at the fact that Captain America is the favorite Marvel character of the person playing Devon.

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Legal Stuff: The Brotherhood, Pyro, Quicksilver, Blob, Purifiers, Storm, Colossus, Adamantium, and Captain America are all the property of Marvel Comics. Trish is my own OC that I created for the game. Devon, Graham, and Warbash remain the intellectual property of their players. 

(I think that's everyone... :icontongueblush: )

© 2013 - 2024 LycoRogue
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