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It felt nice to be with the Brotherhood, even if she was mostly confined to her room on account of her injuries. At least if she was bored all she had to do was poke her head out into the hall and hear the chaos as rebellious teen spirits clashed, and then she decided boredom was preferable and ducked her head back inside. Now, though, even the threat of having her head knocked off her shoulders wasn't enough to keep her from curling on what was left of the living rooms' couch, paper and pencil in her hands. She drew a black-haired, sullen-looking boy--probably around 16--with slow, heavy strokes, representing the lone-wolf thing he had going on.
I hate kids, she thought, almost amused, and yet it seemed like 90% of the Brotherhood was composed of them--teenagers angry at their parents and the world for rejecting them. There were adults, like Erik, Raven, Sabertooth and Toad (if you were counting years and not maturity), as well as a few others she'd yet to meet. The mostly stayed away from her. Even the stupidest, dullest one among them recognized that she wasn't to be messed with--the scars on her arm and haunted, dangerous black eyes were proof of that. Not to mention that the first guy who'd touched her crawled away with a broken nose and two missing teeth.
She let her fingers wander around the paper, sketching whatever caught her eye, or what she remembered. Fire. Explosion. Claws...
She closed her eyes. Even in her dreams she could still see the horror on Ben Stanford's face when he gazed on his own headless body. The ants would have worked on him by now, and the rats, so there wouldn't be much left for the police to trace her with, unless they decided that any and all murders in New York City had to be her fault. She felt bad, not because of Ben's death--she hated him with a flaming passion, and he deserved it after what he'd done to other girls--but because it was dangerous for her to be here with the government and William Stryker looking for her. She hated knowing that she burdened Erik, but she had nowhere else to go, and she needed the rest.
Not, she added mentally as a dull knife went flying over her head, that one got much rest around here. She kept wondering what it was like at Xavier's school, where the kids were disciplined and taken care of without having to steal or sneak or lie or cheat. Because stealing and sneaking and lying and cheating were all talents here that had to be cultivated, there was little if any discipline--it was a free-for-all survival of the fittest. The weak ones died.
She sighed and gathered her things, ducking past a duel between some flying kid and an illusionist and went back to her room, ignoring the shakiness in her legs. She'd have to go check on Pyro and Shock soon, see if they were all right.
Later, though. Now all she wanted to do was sleep.
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