I, Mutant

I, Mutant Chapter Fifteen
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… *damp yet wintery * lol… InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, Dracena and Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting. J ProPhile: *gold star for story development * Morgan: *glomp *She’s still a twat, you know. Readers/Reviewers: Thanks so much for reading/reviewing as you can! Just a note that if you’re bouncing on the list, please fix it because after two week, I start deleting folks unless otherwise notified.




“Keep your voice down,” her uncle enunciated, eradicating all traces of his accent. “Last thing we need is for you to get us caught.”
“Yessir,” she whispered, ducking her head against the cold breeze that skipped across the water. She did not know what to call her uncle, in name if not in blood, and his attitude. He did not care about anyone save himself, it seemed, and only took care of her because she might be useful to him. He kept telling her that he was waiting for her to be useful, for her to ‘do something.’ She padded along behind him as they moved along the periphery of the medieval stone building, him tracing his fingers along the stonework and she trying to stay upright in the suddenly brisk wind. She was only eight, she thought. Why did she have to do all the hard stuff?”
“Now,” he murmured, barely audible above the sound of the water. “Here.” He pushed against the stone wall and it swung open, a rectangle barely large enough for him to fit through but plenty large for a little girl. “Terry, honey, this is my friend,” her uncle smiled as she stepped into the brightly lit room, a cavernous space with ancient weapons hung high on the walls and battered pieces of armor scattered across the floor. She had no idea who he was talking about—the room looked devoid of other humans. A shift in the shadows brought her eyes snapping upwards, straight into the face of a huge, tall man who looked as likely to break her neck as to say hello. She did the first thing that came to mind as her uncle ushered her forward. She screamed.

“Come ON!” She tugged her boyfriend’s hand, pulling him along the castle’s outer wall. “It’s just over here,” she added, smiling over her shoulder as he started to protest. Her clothes were haphazardly put on, buttons out of line and pants barely fastened. He was not much better off. It was obvious what they had been up to, should anyone be on the old grounds. It was her ancestral home, her uncle had told her, in the family since before Christians came to Ireland. She had been coming to this secret room since she was eight, for over five years now, ever since her uncle had introduced her to his business associate. Since that night, she had come alone, when the two men were out of the country on their business and did not need her to help them.
“Theresa, I don’t know,” he began, his teenage lust slaked by a general feeling of uneasiness as they slowed, her fingers skimming the stone wall.
She paused, her eyes narrowed as she turned to look at him. “So it’s good enough for me to suck your dick but soon as I want some action meself you’re off back to precious mum?” She tossed his hand away as if it were repellent to her, her voice ratcheting up a notch. “I’m the trashy girl, the one who’s always off on some delinquent trip, right? Well, fuck you David Hanniagan. I don’t need you to get laid.” She turned her back on him resolutely and marched along the dirt track skirting the castle walls. She did not even look back to see if he was there. She was sick of it, being treated like an object. Tom did it, his friend did it, and now David. Fuck them all, she thought. I don’t need a soul in this world.


“Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit!” Theresa slid down the ladder, wincing at the pain in her hands, and bolted across the foyer. They were caught. Somehow, they’d been caught. She could hear her uncle shouting at someone and a loud, masculine scream. He had used his powers, she thought frantically. They’d take them all now, dissect them in some lab, plaster them on telly and tabloids. She was running so hard that she did not see where she was going, panic driving her legs. She ran headlong into Juggernaut, sending her sprawling backwards as he stood implacably in the foyer, his dark shape like some hulking piece of architecture in the California mansion. “Why aren’t you running?” she demanded, picking herself up painfully. “Move!”
“Not yet,” he grunted, reaching for her. “I need you to do something, Theresa dear.” His smile was ugly, like a row of broken tombstones.
She gasped sharply as he lifted her off her feet, his hands gripping her shoulders and arms so hard that she thought he had broken bones. “Let me down!” she demanded, kicking. ‘I’m not gonna be done in!”
“No,” he agreed. “You’re going to scream.” He squeezed her then, hard enough to make ribs creak threateningly. “Scream!”
Theresa whimpered once, her eyes closing. Use me, she thought. That’s all I’m here for. Taking a deep breath, she mustered everything in herself and let it go, her voice shattering windows, making the police and her uncle drop to their knees. Juggernaut dropped her, tossing her aside like trash. “Now,” he said. “You can run.”