Chapter 10 : The longest day of my life (Reincarnation express)

 

Atop an unspecified warehouse, New York Docks, Manhattan, New York, 25th of January, 04:32

 

I am considering how to clear my current target from the ‘rats’ crawling its inside, not really seeing any ways to keep it on the down-low since I’d rather not make my heroic debuts less than a day after my assault on the mansion, when it suddenly dawned on me.

 

“What about teleportation ?” I whisper aloud.

 

Until now, it hadn’t been needed so I hadn’t even tried.

 

“[Happiness, confidence] : You should have your answer if you focus with your telepathy, I’d wager, since the two are linked.” Iris answers readily.

 

I hmm at that before focusing on my mind-eye.

 

That is when I feel it, now that I’m purposely looking at it.

 

My mind creates links towards all that is both alive or mechanical and around me through which I can communicate in a rather impressive radius for a young mutant, but what I didn’t see before was that the links are two-fold, braided on themselves like as many ropes.

 

I tilt my head, eyes still closed.

 

“Alright, does it do what I think it does ?” I ask.

 

“[Happiness, pride, confidence] : The original mutation used a lot, and I mean a lot, of instinctive calculations to enable its owner to shunt himself through point A to B when they didn’t know the place already. By dovetailing the most valuable part of the X-gene on your telepathy, I’d made it so you are able to forgo that in favor of using an already determined most shorter path through the vicinity of other minds.” She pauses for a second, “I don’t really know the size of the radius in which you’ll be able to teleport yourself to a target, though, you’ll have to test it.”

 

I slowly nod, thinking.

 

“Two questions.” I start, raising two fingers, “Firstly, what about line of sight ?”

 

“[Happiness, confidence] : The original ‘if-you-want-to-get-there-then-will-it’ trigger should still be present.” My sister answers.

 

“Secondly,” I drop one of my fingers, “Which one is the good one ?”

 

Confusion radiates in our shared-mind for a beat.

 

“There’s two ropes, braided together, between me and everything else that is apparently considered a viable target in my mind. So which one is the trigger ?” I elaborate.

 

She’s silent for a beat.

 

“[Confusion, awkwardness] : I’m sorry Aria, but I’m not the telepath here, I do not know.”

 

Peachy.

 

I groan audibly.

 

“Great, because me neither.” I deadpan, “Guess we will have to discover that the hard way.”

 

***

 

Unspecified warehouse, New York Docks, Manhattan, the same day, 04:25, Ross Sabino’s mind

 

Ross was bored.

 

In his current source of employment, boredom was a good thing. Yet, there were only so many solitaire rounds you could play during night watch before you just wished something happened.

 

The crew he was in were sticks in the mud, as far as thugs’ standards goes. They had rebuked him firmly when he had tried to bring in some ‘distractions’ to lighten the mood.

 

So, Ross was twiddling his thumbs, watching the surveillance screens distractedly and fighting himself not to yawn.

 

That’s when a crashing sound behind him made Ross jolt in his seat, and he was suddenly very much awake.

 

Volte-facing, Ross found himself facing one of the strangest views he ever had.

 

The woman, because there was no denying her curves, was clad in a tight white and lilac jumpsuit of the strangest fabric he had ever seen, almost looking like it was alive and breathing, with deep purple claws coming out of her digits. Her face was hidden behind a mask without a nose, strange big upslanted purple eyes, a mouth stretching far too wide to belong to a human being and pointy ears. She was surrounded by a thin shine of white and purplish lights that looked frankly ominous to him.

 

She also looked like she just landed on the chairs that were around the room's table, because those were now on the floor, and the strange woman was half-risen up.

 

“What the…” Started Ross, the stranger locking eyes instantly with him.

 

And then she spoke, and it resonated, like layers upon layers of multiple women’s voices, young, old, sultry, husky, harsh, bossy, angry, carring, hateful, loving and so many more.

 

“Shut up.”

 

Suddenly it was like a battering ram had taken his brain for an especially recalcitrant door, and all the nice little levers he always used to speak, to move, to feel, disappeared.

 

There was only him and her voice.

 

“Intriguing.” The being said, now risen and head tilted.

 

And she promptly decked Ross in the head.

 

***

 

Unspecified warehouse, New York Docks, Manhattan, the same day, 04:26

 

I was watching perplexedly the downed random crook I had just failed to sneak-teleport behind.

 

He definitely had reacted to my voice when, in my annoyance at failing so spectacularly my infiltration on the very first move, I lashed out.

 

I mean, it should’ve been obvious in hindsight that I would have to be prepared to face unknown consequences when teleporting in blind, but I had to find the right ‘rope’ first try.

 

Landing face first on a couple of chairs was definitely out of my field of expectations though.

 

No matter, I’d know better next time.

 

I’ll teleport while hovering.

 

“Do you know what that was, Iris ?” I finally ask the other half of our shared-mind.

 

“[Hesitation, interrogation] : I think you instinctively used the power resulting from the mutation of your language center. It looks like a vocally induced mental attack ?” She hasards.

 

I hmm while telling mentally my new friend the surveillance system to forget about us, pretty please.

 

“[Interrogation] : Do you remember how you used it ?” My sister asks.

 

“I’m not sure. I was pissed at myself, and I wanted to scream but without screaming, if that even makes sense ?” I ramble.

 

“[Agreement, interrogation, hesitation] : Repressed anger ?” She says testily.

 

I blink.

 

“That sounds close enough, I guess.” I agree.

 

“[Happiness, excitement, determination] : We need to test it.” Iris declares.

 

A sentiment I happen to agree with.

 

“Let me just clear my blunder,” I tell her, while crouching and putting a hand onto Mr Crook’s head, “Then we will experiment.”

 

***

 

Unspecified warehouse, New York Docks, Manhattan, the same day, 04:33

 

I am considering the results of our little experiments while TK-ing the unconscious bodies of the seven guards who were guarding the place in the back alley outside.

 

Firstly, it isn’t a voice command like good ol’ Kilgrave used. Unless you consider every word is now a synonym for ‘Freeze’.

 

Secondly, the shock induced is relatively easily shrugged off. It holded for around 2-3 seconds in our test subjects and they were back in commands, albeit a bit shaken.

 

Thirdly, I sound weird while using it. Like ‘all the virtues and sins of the world just landed their eyes on you and you will listen’ level of weird. It’s indescriptible.

 

Finally, and it’s kind of unrelated, we need to learn to control our strength because we definitively broke a few bones here and there without meaning to.

 

I feel a smirk stretching upwide on my face.

 

It will contribute nicely to my little myth.

 

It does not take long before we are the only ones left in the warehouse, and the result is kind of underwhelming.

 

There were some weapons, notably the guards’ pistols and a few submachine guns, but the rest of the machinery present are things tied to accounting, drug making and varied vilain bog-standard paraphernalia.

 

No matter, it will do.

 

I start to levitate and gather enough material together to make a 6 foot-ish human body, very vaguely shaped like a human skeleton with the help of some rebar I found earlier.

 

“Tell me when you’re done with the mother cell,” I tell my sister aloud, focusing my doodling and sculpting skills to their highest level.

 

I’m not going to lie, the result isn’t pretty.

 

“[Agreement, interrogation] : How do you want to extract it ?” She asks.

 

“Puncture one of my blood vessels with one of our claws and you stick it into the drop of blood I’ll gather ?” I hesitate.

 

“[Agreement] : That should do it.” She answers.

 

A beat pass.

 

“You’re quiet,” I finally ask, “Is there a problem ?”

 

The other half of our shared-mind remains quiet for a moment.

 

“[Awkwardness, hesitation] : No, not really. It’s just, the hunt was kind of underwhelming.” Iris finally answers.

 

I mull over that while finagling with my makeshift skeleton-body.

 

Better to tell her now.

 

“We’re powerful,” I start softly, “For normal humans like those, we may as well be gods. Add that to the fact that we will grow in power with training and time, and it may take a while before we have a proper hunt.”

 

An hesitative [Understanding] resonates in our shared-mind.

 

“The thing is, this is the calm before the storm.” I carry on, “We should just enjoy ourselves as much as we can before we get thrown into problems always bigger than the previous ones.”

 

I pause.

 

“I don’t wish for us to fight for the sake of it, but I’ll fight to guarantee us a happy and peaceful rest afterward.”

 

Our shared-mind remains silent, but love and care now overcome the previous sentiments.

 

“We will find things together for you to do that you can do and enjoy as much as the hunt, sister.” I promise her.

 

“[Happiness, hesitation, shyness] : Will you share them with me ?” She softly asks.

 

“Always.” I confirm aloud.

 

Another moment passes as [Happiness, joy] shines quietly in our shared-mind.

 

“[Happiness, confidence] : I’m done.” She finally says.

 

I nod in understanding, watching critically my awful looking sculpture.

 

Well, if you squint hard enough, it looks like a humanoid-ish robot, I guess ? At least, it has all the members.

 

I shrug.

 

“Me too, I guess ?” I hasard, scratching the back of our head.

 

[Mirth] is dancing in our shared-mind.

 

I roll my eyes.

 

“So, where did you put it ?” I ask, discarding my failure easily.

 

[Happiness, mirth, confidence] : Let me do it maybe ?” Iris asks.

 

“Sure thing, sis’.” I agree easily.

 

With a certain amount of fascination and morbid curiosity, I watch my right arm rise by itself, obeying commands I definitely didn’t send through my nerves, while my sister’s skin vacates a spot along my left one.

 

I watch the claw at the tip of my right index finger elongate and get as thin as a needle.

 

“[Concentration, confidence] : Get ready to lock it down.” Iris says, mental voice tense.

 

“Alright,” I mumble aloud, watching my own digit getting closer to my golden skin.

 

I wince when my sister ruthlessly punctures my skin and I have to quickly refocus to lock the drop of my blood telekinetically at the top of the makeshift needle.

 

My blood, still red, yeah, starts falling along my arm for a bit before stopping, then begins to slowly back-track its way towards my wound.

 

I’m both grossed out and mesmerized by the vision of my injury closing on itself when all of my previously free flowing life-fluid returned where it came.

 

“That was something,” I marvel quietly as I regain the control of my right arm, “But remind me to dial down my own pain response at a later time, I nearly screwed up.”

 

“[Agreement] : I will.” Iris readily answers.

 

Kneeling closer to my crude attempt at modern art, I direct my mind’s attention toward the door to the Astral plane that is still slightly ajar from earlier this morning.

 

I tug mentally once, twice, on the tether.

 

The response is almost immediate, and I’m suddenly cognizant to what happened during the little vacation ‘me’ had spent.

 

I can also feel Flash’s mind, so weak and insubstantial in a body that isn’t his own anymore, still clawing desperately to life.

 

Without any warning, I rip his panicking mind from my vessel to put him in the mother cell still sticking to my needle thin claw.

 

Almost immediately, it starts to struggle against my telekinetic hold, trying to multiply in the shape of an appropriate body for his host.

 

Bringing it closer to the makeshift skeleton-body, I tell its mechanical components that another needs their help, and that he’s like me.

 

The chorus of alien happiness that answers me warms my heart.

 

The tip of my claw touches metal, and I unlock my hold on the mother cell.

 

As I step back, I watch it multiply and spread like mold in those fast-forwards videos you can see on the internet.

 

The regeneration speed of a composite healing factor is scarily effective. 

 

It starts as nothing more than pinkish skin attempting to cover the ‘head’ of my crude attempt at art, but soon enough, the critical mass is reached.

 

Flashy’s newfound power hears his call, and it answers.

 

In front of my eyes, in a macabre and mechanical show, I watch the machines, guns, cables and rebar I gathered together take a life on their own. They disassemble themselves to make new body parts, hydraulique pistons coming together with thin wires to make legs, computer units coming apart to recombine in a techno-cerebral unit, and so much more.

 

Blood, Flashy’s new silvery blood, starts flowing amids all, flesh and muscles bridging the gaps where the construct that he is subconsciously building isn’t enough, and his new skin is rippling along, covering it when things are done.

 

I watch his baby blue eyes flash open, the same as mine, and from his mouth, still not totally finished, wires and metallic new 'bones' jutting from his ‘chin’, he cannot hold the raw, primal roar that escapes.

 

“AAAAAAAARGHHHHHHH!” He yells, and I realize dumbly that if I had trouble with a self-inflicted puncture, he must be enduring hell now.

 

My eyes narrow as I start to release a calming aura at full blast to help him.

 

I cannot get closer to him amid the maelstrom of metallic objects coming apart and grafting to himself right now so it will have to suffice.

 

His eyes clamp shut anew, and he starts to grit his teeth as the process carries on.

 

This is all on him now.

 

***

 

Unspecified warehouse, New York Docks, Manhattan, the same day, 05:27

 

The maelstrom of activity suddenly still, and everything still surrounding the eye of the storm and remaining in connection to it starts to fall and crash onto the cement floor.

 

In the middle, Flashy is on all four, butt nacked like the day he was born, which seems fitting, still panting from his ordeal.

 

Once the last object has fallen, a cathodic tv screen of all things, I start to slowly make my way toward him.

 

“You ok there ?” I finally ask, stopping when only a few steps remain.

 

Better safe than sorry.

 

He shudders a last time, hitting the floor with his right fist.

 

The floor loses the battle rather splendidly, cracking under his might.

 

“That,” Flash starts, exhaling, “Tickled.”

 

I guffaw at that, and he locks eyes with me.

 

His look hasn’t changed from the one I saw in the mirror until yesterday, except that I can tell that his hair and eyebrows are made from extremely thin golden wires from how they glow under the flickering of the light bulbs of the devastated warehouse.

 

“No need to play the big strong cis male with me Flashy, that definitively looked like a madness flavored hellish torment,” I chid him gently as my sister drop the mask, exposing my smirk and my glorious snow white mane.

 

I cross the remaining footstep, extending a hand.

 

Flash rolls his eyes, taking my offered arm gingerly.

 

Once he’s fully risen, he takes a long look at my face, golden skin and all, before nodding slowly to himself.

 

“Are you still going with Rachel, or…” He asks archingly.

 

“Well, I didn’t really look like one anymore, so I’m going with Aria now, thank you for asking.” I answer genially.

 

“Indeed.” He pauses, “Can you hide it or ?”

 

My touch-TK flickers and I’m the perfect example of normality once again.

 

He raises his second eyebrow at the display, suitably impressed.

 

“That will do nicely, I suppose.” He drawls.

 

Shaking his head to quiet the remaining spasming tremors still seizing his biomechanical body once in a while, he exhales one more time, eyes closed.

 

When he opens them again, his smile is genuine.

 

“Thanks for the save, really.”

 

I shake my head slowly, my white curls rippling around me.

 

“Don’t mention it, it was the right thing to do.” I answer easily, smiling.

 

“So,” He clasps his hands together, creating a small shockwave, which makes him pause, “Ready to be properly introduced to the family ?”

 

It’s my turn to arch an eyebrow at that.

 

I wonder what he is going to do ?

 

“Sure,” I shrug, “Why not ? But what about putting some pants first, Flashy ?”

 

I struggle to hide my mirth as he sputters, cheeks reddening, finally taking stock of his clothing issues.

 

Waves of [Amusement, mirth] radiate from my sister and I shared-mind.

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