Mirror, Mirror

Mirror Mirror Chapter Seventeen
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… When life gives you frosties…eat them. *nods* InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, Dracena and Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting. J ProPhile: More to come. Morgan: *gloke * Readers/Reviewers: If you’re archiving and are missing chapters, lemme know asap (before Thursday my time) and I’ll send them to you. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Mark muttered, peering out the tinted glass at the scene rising on the sides of the road.
“Nice of ‘em to send a welcome wagon,” Logan replied, slowing the car as the Morlocks surged forward, blocking the narrow road. A felinoid form was prowling towards the driver’s side door, hunched as if they were getting ready to spring. Logan flexed his fingers in preparation—it had been a long time since he had a good fight.
“Logan,” Mark said sharply, his tone warning. His own fingers curled around the hilt of the short sword at his side, more of an automatic comfort than true preparation. “Just see what they want first.” He barely managed not to flinch as a particularly…interesting…individual flung themselves against his window, pale green skin hitting glass with a wet thud as trails of slime smeared beneath their fingers and lips. “Or we could just shoot them.”
The other man snorted before shutting off the engine. He fixed the felinoid with a pointed glare, not moving to open the door until she (at least, he thought, they *looked* like a she) stepped back. “You people are terrible trackers,” he said without preamble. “We’ve known you were following us for the past ten miles. Now tell us what you want and get out of our way… I don’t care what deal Professor Xavier made with you, it ain’t mine. I don’t have to kowtow to spoiled brats.”
A subtle growl rolled across the small group of Morlocks but not one of them dared to speak against Logan until they were given the signal from their de facto leader. Thornn, her feline eyes narrowed to slits, slinked forward and smiled, baring sharp teeth in the slivers of moonlight filtering through the trees. “You’re bold, for Eloi.”
“Oh, that again,” Mark groaned, sliding out of the passenger seat. “Move, get along, you!” he chided, waving off the slimy Morlock with the tip of his sword. “I just got this from the dry cleaner and I don’t relish the idea of returning any time soon.”
“The pact your leader made with ours is a joke,” Thornn spat, closing the distance between her and Logan. “We are still helpless, below. They have abandoned us for glory. They are becoming Eloi, like you,” she added, the words dripping with venom. A soft hiss went up from somewhere in front of the car, giving Logan the impression of a large snake coiling to strike.
“I already told you I don’t care,” Logan replied, folding his arms across his chest in a deceptive gesture. His fingers were tightening; he could feel the metal sliding beneath his skin, moving like beings of their own mind, but he held it in check, forcing himself to be patient. “Now you going to tell me what the Hell you’re doing out here in BFE in the middle of the night or am I just gonna have to live my life in wonderment?”
Thornn glanced past Logan, her eyes lighting momentarily on Mark and the glint of metal at his side. “How…quaint,” she murmured. “Almost like a knight.”
Mark winced outwardly then. “No knights,” he sighed. “There’s been enough of that already. Can we safely assume that this little tete a tete is in regards to the current alliance between your people and…ours?” he finished somewhat hesitantly, not quite willing to group himself with mutants just yet. The slimy Morlock was edging close to him again, earning a sharp glare. “I said back off, thank you.”
Thornn cocked her head slightly to one side and seemed to be hearing a voice no one else could at that moment. “You’re going for your missing and we will not interfere. But let it be known to your old man that we are not resting. We are gathering, we are angry. We have been raped as a people and will not hide in the tunnels any longer, not while we are being betrayed!”
Logan nodded slowly. “Right. Big plate of crazy coming right up.” Without another word, he turned and let himself back into the car, slamming the door behind him and locking it. As Mark joined him, he muttered, “Lock the door. Now.”
“Right,” the librarian sighed, managing to get it done as the slimy Morlock and someone who appeared to be covered in warts leapt at the car again, grabbing at the handles and howling in inchoate emotion. “Any particular reason you felt like being an ass to them?” he demanded as they sped down the country road, the Morlocks receding into the darkness on either side of the lane. “Because if it was just for jollies, I think you need a new hobby.”
“They’re not my friends and it’s not my problem if they’re pissed off about Callisto. I think it was a bad idea to get in with them in the first place,” he added grimly. “First those damned bird headed Shi’ar, now Morlocks. We’re not some halfway house for the mentally fucked up.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Mark retorted, not bothering to lower his voice. “You’re racist. Or…mutantist, rather. What *is* the word for it?”
“The HELL are you talking about?” he shot back, swinging the car onto a narrow dirt track wending through the thick woods. “I’m not anything like that.”
“You hate them because they’re ugly, they’re angry, and they hate you,” Mark began, only to be silenced when Logan slammed on the brakes and made him jerk against the seatbelt.
“We’re here,” the older man stated flatly. “Get out and bring your pointy stick with you.”