Fan Fiction » New Mutants Unlimited » New Mutants Unlimited #59: Destitute Cacophonies
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New Mutants Unlimited #59: Destitute Cacophonies
Post by Risk on May 4, 2007, 5:14pm
New Mutants Unlimited #59
Title: Destitute Cacophonies
Cover description: Cain’s torn and bloody mask lies on the dusty floor, with a handgun lying directly beneath it, visible through the torn parts of the fabric.
«This story takes place just before New Mutants #126.»
***
It’s been a slow day. Not that I’m ungrateful. A couple of cracked ribs make me slow myself. I’m more tired than usual. A slow day is just what I need.
I should probably report to Dr. McCoy for a check up. My powers seem to have faded somehow. A slip up yesterday, a landing that wasn’t braced properly, and I fell. Cracked ribs. There’s no way that it would have happened if I had my powers. They went pretty suddenly. There’s no reason I can see…
It doesn’t really matter right now, if it does at all. Right now, my powers are the least of my concerns, and it’s hardly as if I’m not functional without them. Lately… lately, everything I’ve been making myself into has been thrown into question. And the first thing that led to this? I don’t know if I should even be letting it affect me. It was a… hallucination of my mother. I was tired. I must have been delirious. It doesn’t make sense any other way. I don’t believe in ghosts. There’s no reason for it to have been faked. It must have been a hallucination.
And yet, I’ve let it affect me anyway. It’s left me confused. That’s an emotion that there really isn’t any space for. Confusion. Not in what we do. Not in how we work.
Then there’s one of the new people… it doesn’t matter. Like I said, there isn’t room for it. Is there?
Distractions. I hear voices below me. Rushed, harsh whispers. Five men casing a jewellery store. One of them is literally twice my size. I think I see at least two guns. I’m not going to let them get inside and get to whatever poor guy’s going to be locking up.
I drop down on one from above, slamming his face into the pavement. He’s down immediately. Four men. I spin around and notice one reaching for his gun, and another, keeping away from the group. That one’s nervous. He doesn’t want to be here. Too bad. I knock the gun away from the person in front of me and spin around, slamming a foot into his jaw. I hear a crack. More than that, I actually feel his jaw crack under my boot. It makes me feel slightly sick. With my powers, I never felt the crack.
Three.
A footstep falls too loudly behind me. These men are ineffectual and clumsy. I duck under the fist he swings at the back of my head and grab a hold of his arm, throwing him over and kicking him in the back as I do so. Two.
One of the two is still staying away. The largest of the group yells at him to join in, and he nods reluctantly, but still doesn’t move. The giant swings at me. He misses. I throw a punch at his ribs. Three knuckles crack. I wasn’t careful. I forgot about my durability being gone. Hit him like I would have before yesterday. The warmth from the blood building around the knuckles contrasts with the harsh cold I feel on the outside of the hand. I greet it just as readily as I do the pain. It’s not a sensation I encounter often.
Mistake. I’ve left myself open, as I remained focused on the sensation. I pay for it. The behemoth before me levels a fist straight into my jaw. It nearly cracks it in two. It does send me flying back. All of a sudden, I can’t feel the wind anymore. Every sound I could hear a second ago cuts out. I’m taken out of time for a heartbeat, and I black out.
Just for a moment. I’m brought back by the wind rushing to meet me and every sound returning, merging into a dissonant cacophony. I slam into the ground and skid across it, my skin burning through my uniform. I’m better than this. I’ve always been better than this. Losing a part of me has thrown me off so much…
He comes back over to me. He doesn’t have a gun, or he would have used it in the moment I was out, or he would be using it now as I lie before him, seemingly helpless. Looks like I was right. Two guns. Little comfort.
The goliath reaches down to grab me. Unfortunately for him, he leaves himself open, and I’m not above fighting dirty when I have to. A strategically placed kick drops him. And by strategically placed, I mean to his groin. I get to my feet and brush myself off.
One. But where is he?
I hear a click and I feel something pressed against my skull where the cowl is torn. I can feel the cold, hard metal through it. I’m not worried. It’s the kid who doesn’t want to be here. I turn partially, so that I can see him.
“Don’t move! I’ll blow your head off! I mean it!”
No he won’t. He knows it. I know it. Even the tone in his voice betrays it. He’s scared. He hasn’t shot anyone before. He isn’t going to shoot me. I can see the apprehension in his eyes. He isn’t going to do it.
He isn’t going to pull the trigger.
I can see at least two dozen ways of disabling him from here. Half of them involve injuring him. I’d rather not do that. He isn’t going to shoot me. I can give him that option. To just hand the gun over. To make it feel like he ended this himself.
It’ll be a comforting feeling for him. He doesn’t want to be mixed up in this, that much is clear. His eyes betray that, too.
“Drop the gun. Kick it away. We’re done here. You don’t need to get yourself into any more trouble. You haven’t hurt anyone. Yet. If you do now, that’ll change everything. Think about it, and just give the gun up.”
I give him a few seconds to think about it. If he still has the gun after the sixth, I’ll disarm him. I watch a bead of sweat run down his temple. The gun’s still pressed against my head, but he’s not going to pull the trigger. He’s about to give the gun up. I’m sure of it. He can at least feel good about himself for that.
I hear a click.
“Oh,” I mutter quietly.
He pulls the trigger.
Re: New Mutants Unlimited #59: Destitute Cacophoni
Post by Pester on May 4, 2007, 5:35pm
So THAT'S what a destitute cacophany is.
Re: New Mutants Unlimited #59: Destitute Cacophoni
Post by Marcus/Darya/Joshua/Ghost on May 4, 2007, 8:26pm
You have lovely ways of killing off your characters.
