*Author’s Note: It certainly has been a long time. As has been customary with me, I shall give a short update and excuse as to why I have not been keeping up with this story. I am now in my third year of college at the University of Florida. You might have heard of it, it’s the one that only cares about its football team: the Gators. No, I do not partake in mindless athletic celebration. In fact, I can’t wait to get out of here. Secondly, I’m sorry for the unforgivably long break I’ve taken from this story. When I say I will finish something, you can take my word for it. This story will have an end—a good one. Bear with me. The transition into adulthood leaves little time for fiction writing. For those of you who have been patient, I can’t thank you enough. Please enjoy the chapter and know that things will get more interesting. :)

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“We have a visitor,” Lara whispered, disguising her comment with a loving grin and a deceptive graze of John’s ear. The mutant nodded slowly as his eyes traced the redhead’s movements. No European beauty would want to attract mass attention unless she were up to something—unless she had a target.

“It’s nice to see two young people in love,” Gregory remarked thoughtfully. Lara and John’s focuses quickly returned to the representatives’ table. They had been unaware of their close proximity and their softly intertwined fingers.

“How long have you two been together?”

“Almost two years,” Lara replied without missing her cue. John admired her guile. He himself had been unsure of what to say. Gregory tilted his head and produced a warm smile.

“Ah, smart kids,” he chuckled. “The longer you know each other the better. Don’t want to get married without being absolutely sure these days. I remember when I proposed to my wife. Took me six years to find the courage! Strangest proposal ever…”

“Do you see her? Maybe I should go and keep an eye on her,” Lara whispered covertly into John’s ear as the officials gave their attention to Gregory who continued to ramble in the background. John grasped her hand tighter than before.

“Maybe I should,” he answered, a strain of worry choking his suggestion. “If that’s Mystique, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Lara let out a little sigh and smiled at him. “While I do appreciate the sentiment, John, I’m sure you know I can take care of myself. Besides,” she whispered more softly, “you don’t have your lighter.”

She had a point, but that wouldn’t deter John from doing this himself.

“Gentlemen! Do any of you recognize my fiancé?”

“John, don’t do this…”

“Come now, darling. Don’t be so modest!”

The representatives gazed at Lara; only a moment passed when a fourth representative, who had since seemed unbothered to speak, lifted his gaze from his wine glass to peer at her as well.

“The Tomb Raider,” he said, a distinct amount of wonder in his voice. John’s neck pulsed in time with the antebrachial veins in his palm and forearm. He didn’t know if his sudden blood flow was due to the anticipation of confronting the red-haired enemy or fueled by the rapidly coruscating eyes of the politician. He squeezed a smile onto his lips. It was thin, but hopefully genuine.

“If you will excuse me for a moment, gentlemen, I’ll have to leave my fiancé to keep you company for a while. I’ll return in a few minutes, darling.” John kissed Lara on the cheek, gave a thoughtful look to the representatives, and gracefully stepped away from the table. He started to sweat.

The red-head wasn’t difficult to spot, and John suspected that was no coincidence. He caught sight of her at the other end of the dance floor, swaying to a different tune than everyone else.

Oil seemed to slide from her breasts to her calves as the air from an open terrace door manipulated the lustrous fabric of her dress. John swallowed hard and wished that he hadn’t given his lighter to Lara. How was he going to deal with Mystique when she had the upper hand?

Picking his way through the mass of pearl necklaces and black ties, John made his way to the terrace double doors. They stood open like the gaping mouth of some starched white beast, its belly visible beyond its teeth, black and full of stars.

She waited for him in the doorway. He knew this for sure, because her black eyes were trained on him intently, excitedly. When he approached her, he saw that her eyes were actually a deep gray with shards of yellow permeating their murkiness. She lowered her chin and gazed up at him with the innocence of a whore.

“Drab party,” she said. “Why don’t you and I take this outside?”

John didn’t think it wise to be seen exiting the building with a woman other than his “fiancé.” He new that Mimsy’s interest in particular had been peaked by the arrival of the mystery woman. The best option was to go back and get Lara.

“I think I like it in here!” He boasted loudly. “Why don’t you come join me and Lara? It’ll be a grand time!” He grabbed Mystique’s wrist and yanked her roughly from her cool stance, his only vehicle the element of surprise. A shudder from Mystique’s hand echoed through his palm. He had pushed her into a situation she had not expected and turned the table in his favor.

Lara blanched when she saw John tugging Mystique toward her. What was he thinking?

“Darling, look who I found!” John approached the table with a quite uncomfortable looking redhead. The representatives gawked at John’s good fortune of knowing so many attractive women.

“Don’t you think we should show her around? We’re terribly sorry for not synching our arrivals, but you made it nevertheless!”

Lara understood his motives and thought him quite clever.

“Selene, how magnificent to see you tonight! Come. We’ve much to discuss! Gentlemen, it was a pleasure, but if you’d excuse us…”

All seven men nodded as their mouths had since lost their hinges. John shook the hand of the closest representative, the man who had been ogling Lara earlier, Maxwell Hayes, and dashed off toward Lara and a very upset Mystique.

When they reached the terrace doors, Lara slammed Mystique into the outside adjacent wall, producing a .32 mm handgun aimed at Mystique’s face. Both mutants were surprised, but John tried to focus less on where Lara had actually been concealing the small gun and more on the woman pinned against the roughly textured concrete wall.

“Why are you here?” Lara asked, Beretta firmly in hand. Mystique smiled.

“A girl can’t come to a party without being harassed these days?”

“John, grab your lighter and heat up the barrel of this gun.”

Mystique squirmed. “You expect to interrogate me in the middle of a party?”

“Right thigh, John.”

Pyro grabbed his lighter from a garter beneath Lara’s dress. In a moment his hand held a small flame beneath Lara’s gun.

“How many people do you think will run outside when they hear me scream?” Mystique snarled against Lara’s palm around her throat. “It only takes one.”

“No one knows you here. They will believe my story, not yours. Now talk before this gun gets hot enough to press against your forehead.”

“You don’t intimidate me, Lara Croft.”

John thought a smile crept onto the tomb raider’s lips.

“You were warned.”

In one sharp movement, Lara pushed Mystique’s throat upward with her left forearm and with her right hand, plunged the burning metal onto the mutant’s face. The sizzling sound of flesh and heat popped in John’s ears. Mystique tried to scream, but Lara’s arm turned her pleas into gurgled nonsense. The smoke continued to rise from Mystique’s forehead even after Lara pulled away.

“You… fucking bitch,” Mystique panted. She wanted to scream, but her brain rattled in shock. She reverted to her natural form, unable to sustain her façade for any longer. Lara showed her no mercy. She heaved the mutant higher on the wall, pressing her gun firmly into Mystique’s abdomen. If the captive woman wanted to glare at Lara, one would be hard pressed to tell. Her yellow eyes lolled languidly behind her blue lids as she continued to pant and blink.

“You’re not getting your hands on these representatives. They’re under our protection now.”

A small, sardonic chuckle gurgled from Mystique’s lips. A stunned John and Lara listened as it evolved into a long, echoic cackle.

“You self-righteous, self-proclaimed good guys. You think you’ve got it all figured out-- that the Brotherhood can’t conceive a single plan that you can’t ruin.” Her blue chest rose and fell methodically now, the pain in her head gradually subsiding to a hot sting.

John held his lighter in anticipation of attack. Suddenly he felt less confident about his and Lara’s mission—the mission of the X-Men. He glanced at Lara, who still held Mystique’s grinning form against the terrace wall. She didn’t look nervous at all.

“You’re going to tell me what you’re babbling about.”

“Oh, am I?” The mutant laughed. “You know, I could have killed you by now, lady Croft, but I think I just enjoy this rivalry far too much.”

“She’s trying to get to you, Lara. Don’t let her.”

“I’m well aware of that, John. Thank you.”

Mystique cocked her head. “Oh, how precious. The little X-Boy looking out for the world-renowned…”

Lara pistol-whipped Mystique across the face, dropping the mutant to the marble polish of the terrace floor. Before Lara could grab her again, however, Mystique flipped onto her feet and grabbed the tomb raider by her arm, twisting it behind her. Lara flung her free arm around to retaliate, but Mystique was faster, kicking the back of Lara’s knees and pinning them down with her own as the tomb raider was forced to kneel. The Beretta was useless, clenched awkwardly behind Lara in her captive hand.

Pyro quickly ignited his lighter and caught a baseball-sized flame in his hands. He tensed his arms and spread his legs in an anxious ready stance, prepared to act if Lara needed him. He watched nervously as Mystique pressed her cheek against Lara’s. Her lips grazed the tomb raider’s jaw line as she hissed into her ear:

“You can’t beat us,” Mystique said. “Your plans are futile; your efforts wasted. Even now our machinations unfurl around you, tease you, touch you. And here you are, helpless in my grasp.” Lara shivered as Mystique ran her tongue along her cheekbone. The mutant smiled.

“Goodbye, Lara Croft.”

“No!” John leapt forward to stop what he had been anticipating all along: the graceful twist of Lara’s neck in Mystique’s deft blue hands.

Lara tried to shake her captor’s embrace, but it was too strong. She thrashed and fumbled with the gun behind her back.

Now, Lara, now!

Sweat poured from her face; she saw John hurl himself toward her, eyes blazing with violence and fear. He wouldn’t make it in time. Lara struggled all she could, but she still felt Mystique’s hands clench her face with the firm hold of finality. With all of her remaining strength, Lara threw herself sideways and hoped she would live to feel the pain of crashing into the mottled marble of the terrace wall.