Chapter 15

I left Laura's room some hours later, having spent pretty much all of the time holding- well I don't know if I was holding her, or if she was holding but- I guess it was kind of a mutual holding. We were holding each other basically. Or at least I think that was how it went down. Blah, relationships, far too complicated for my liking.

I paused outside my room, drumming my fingers along the wall. Reflecting, I mulled over her words. 'A killer!' The size of the statement was intimidating, like a new school assignment you didn't want to start, only a thousand times worse. I did not want to think about it.

Killing was... Well, it wasn't exactly immoral. People killed all the time and weren't punished for it. Manslaughter, whilst bad, wasn't usually a life sentence or even a sentence at all in some cases. The police and armed forces were even commended for killing, it was their duty after all. I sighed, heavily. Couldn't life just give you a book, one that told you what was right and wrong, what should and should not be, what was fine and what needed fixing? How could Laura be a killer? It didn't make sense on a fundamental level. Not that I didn't believe it. I trusted Laura for whatever reason. That might have been probably due to the huge crush I had on her though. But even then, something beyond that told me that she was an inherently trustworthy person. Nothing of what she had said to me in any of the times that I'd spoken to her suggested even an ounce of deception. She wasn't a Kitty, she wasn't a me, even. Not that I was a liar (Okay, yes I am.), but I wasn't being exactly honest about my feelings either. She was way too... I struggled for the word. Too... Blunt. Like she didn't have the kind of social restraints that everyone else had, she was raw, uncensored. Did that have something to do with being a killer? Had... whatever it was that she had done, desensitized her to the opinions of others, removed from her the barriers of etiquette and expectations that kept everyone else bound. I realized, somewhat surprised, that that was one of the things I found attracted me too her. How honest and, in her own way, open she was.

I though of what Kitty had called her, 'the psycho girl.' What I had said was true, I think, even now, even after her admission. She wasn't a psychopath, whoever she had killed, she had good reason to, I knew that much. A Laura with malicious intent just didn't seem like a real person, an abstract idea far more incomprehensible than Laura the killer.

Again my thoughts hit a road block. Laura the killer. It wasn't that I couldn't imagine a reason for her to kill someone. I could think of many different reasons for that. Heck, I'd probably come across at least a few just in the minutes I spent scrolling through my news feed. No, that wasn't the issue. It was more the why. Why had she needed to kill someone, why had she been put into that position? What kind of world put a person, a child, into a position like that?

Unfortunately, this wasn't a new thought, a new anger. I'd experienced these feelings often enough, with the news mostly. I still remember the first article I read that actually made me think.

There was a baby, just a normal one, left in a car. It got too hot and it died. Just like that. No reason, just inexperienced, new parents. No plot, just mindlessness. No intent, just the horror. That was what I hated thinking about, the 'but why' that came with everything.

I pushed away from the wall. That wasn't something that was going to be answered anytime soon. Punching myself in the head, I tried to drag my mind away from that depressive cycle of thinking. Hitting myself wasn't quite as meaningful as it had been pre-mutation. I didn't feel pain anymore so the impact was dulled. Still, my brain seemed to recognize the symbolism of it and my attention switched back over to a much more acceptable level of worry, what I was going to eat for breakfast. It was a comforting distraction, what I was going to eat, though the occasional guilt of my first world privilege of having the choice of food peaked through, and then the guilt of my pathetically token-istic feeling of guilt, and the guilt of that and so on and so on. It was an annoying cycle really, but then thinking of as such brought back the guilt of privilege and, bah.

I huffed as I flung myself into my room and onto my bed, not bothering to check if Bobby was there. I think he was, sleeping maybe. 'Fucking life.' I thought as I pulled the covers over me. At least I managed to find comfort in one thing though; the mild amusement I felt at acting like a proper teenager, all mopey and crap. It was like I was a badly scripted character in some tragi-rom-com. Heheh, how silly.

(Time Skip, Bling!)

I was woken up by rather loud banging on my door.

"MARTIN?" I heard coming from, surprisingly, not Scot.

"The hell is that?" I heard Bobby groan as I untangled myself from my sheets, from the state of them, it seemed I'd had an unrestful sleep.

"Umm..." I mumbled in a haze.

"MARTIN?" I winced at the demanding voice that sounded familiar and also feminine.

"And why are they up so early?" Bobby groaned, as he checked the clock. 5:00AM, an hour earlier than what it should be. Gross.

"TH- THIS IS YOUR ROOM RIGHT?" The shouting seemed less sure now, that was good, maybe the would go away now?

"MARTIN?" Sheep Biscuits, that voice was too familiar. I swore repeatedly as I leaped out from the warmth of my covers and rapidly changed into my training stuff. Sheep from hell.

"Coming!" I called out, as I slipped on my runners. "You can stop shouting now."

"Is that-" I gave Bobby a glance, seeing him wearing his thinking face. It broke into a smirk. "Is that X?"

I gave him stomp through his covers. "Shut up. It's just training." Glowering at him, I went to the door, ignoring his amused groaning. I was not going to hear the end of this.

"MARTIN?" I winced, as I heard the shout point blank, this time with no door in the way.

"Yes, training, I know." I hurried out of the room before Bobby could say anything about the 'things' he had suspected me of.

"You're going the wrong way." Laura said. I paused, doing a one-eighty.

"Oh." Finally having a moment to pause, I looked at her. "Sorry... good morning." I said, trying not to stare at the exposed midriff I had just noticed. Dang it, those were some nice abs.

Under the guise of rubbing sleep out of my eyes I blocked the all too tempting view of her lower half and instead focused on her eyes. Not that they were any less attractive, but at least they weren't quite so damning. Or so I though.

"Sorry, pardon?" I asked, too distracted by her green orbs to listen to her reply. Bad Martin, stop being so mushy. Idiot. I scolded myself mentally, using far more... Expressive words on top of that.

"I said; good morning." She replied, with that cursed neutral expression on her face. Well, at least that was better than disgust or anger or any number of other emotions, always a sliver lining, I guess.

"Oh, right. Yes, good morning."

"You already said that." Damn.



"Still asleep." Yes, good excuse.


"Restless night." Eh, that has connotations. Both pure and impure, perhaps something less easy to misinterpret next time? I mentally slap my subconscious commentator. He could be quite now.

"Yeah... Same..." Laura replied, hesitantly. I blinked. Did she just... Offer information up willingly?

We both started at once.

"So about-"
"Yesterday I-"
We did it again.

We each gave each other the same look, both faces expressing an equal level of discomfort about the following conversation we were attempting to have.

"Training first?" I suggested. I noted the look of relief that flashed across her face. If it was she who'd made the suggestion, mine would almost be a mirror.

"Yes, good idea." Laura agreed and we passed the rest of the journey to the gym in silence. It was a good idea.

Arriving at the our intended location, I gave a clap. No use beating around the bush. "So what's the plan boss?" I asked.

"Punching" She stated simply, although I may have seen a hint of a sly smile underneath the stoic facade. I guessed that she'd been looking forward to this. The being in charge bit, not the training with me bit, as much as my ego would like to assume. I would have been, being bossy was fun.


"I bet you punch like a baby." she stated simply, again. Yep, she was definitely looking forward to this.

"I bet that hurt my feelings."

"I bet it's true." She smirked.

"So we're fixing that." I conceded. I did kind of punch like a wet fish. What? It's not as if I got into may fights. I was the... How to put this. The popular kid, but like, not the popular kid. Everyone knew me, but I wasn't really friends with anyone. I was just on speaking and hanging out terms with most everyone in my grade. I remember acting as a mediator, sent from group to group to deliver angsty teenage messages of love and hatred, it was quite enjoyable actually, if a little shallow.


"And you know how to punch?" I asked, more for the sake of the flow of the conversation than anything else, really. I knew she knew how to punch. I'd seen it, I remembered with a wince, up close.

"Yes, you know that."

"Yeah, I do... Sorry." I finished with the apology, more out of instinct than any reasoning. It needed to be said.

"For what?" Laura asked, sounding genuinely confused. She was setting up the punching bag and I moved to help her.

"That I know." I shrugged.

"Know...?" I helped her hook on the bag. It had been moved out the way for one of Scott's crazy obstacle courses. The nut job.

"That I know you can punch." I concluded, as bounced on the balls of my feet.

"Oh." She frowned. I don't think she knew what I was appolgisng for. That made sense, I usually didn't.

"Sorry that..." I paused, thinking of a way to rephrase it, "That I caused you to punch me? I didn't mean to jump you in your room."

"Oh. Yeah, I know that." Laura smiled faintly and shrugged.

"So punching?" I smiled, guessing that meant apology accepted.

"Yes." she replied as he held the bag for me. "Punch it."

"What, just like..." She nodded. "Okay." I punched it.

"Crap." She stated firmly.


"That was crap." she interupted.

"But I-"

"Do it again, but less crap." she demanded.

I frowned and punched it again, harder.

"Crap." Laura commented. I frowned at her. "You hit like a noodle." She informed me with a very matter of fact tone.

"That was kinda hard, I thought." I replied. I'd better defend my punch at least a tiny bit, right?

"Yeah, like I said. Noodle punch." She wiggled her fingers at me in the kind of sarcastic gesture I'd expect from myself. "Kinda hard, woo. Wowy, go you."

"Well, I can't magically get stronger..." I huffed, though repressed a grin. Who knew Laura was the sarcastic type?

"Why not?"

"Well, its- "

"Punch." she said with a smile. I blew a razzberry at her, but did as I was told, I punched again, harder.

"Is this about my form? Because I'll tell you now, I have no idea what I'm doing." I said, honestly.

She shook her head. "No, but your form is crap as well though." She gestured for me to continue, "We'll work on that later."

"Well, what is this about then?" I asked, as I punched the bag every couple or so seconds. The sound of the thuds rang in in the empty hall.

"Noodle punch, like I said."

"So just punch harder?" I replied, starting to feel a little frustrated.

She nodded, "Yeah."

"Okay then." I punched the bag some more, picking up a little more speed. I was mainly focusing on hitting the bag with as much force as I could though. Laura shook her head. "Okay, what?" I huffed. What did she want? Why so cryptic?

"Well..." she stepped away from the bag. "Put your finger in your mouth. I did, putting my second knuckle in between my teeth.

She nodded, "Good, now bite down." Complying I bit down on my knuckle, a little harder than what was proably necessary. Still, she shook her head.

"No, BITE down." She enthused. "Here, I'll show you." Taking her own knuckle, Laura bit down into it. I was about to nod, say something of affirmation, but she held up her free hand, warding me off. Her teeth cut into her her skin, drawing blood as she clamped down.

My eyes widened and I went to stop her. What the hell? I knew she was kind of hardcore but..

Again she held up a hand and I stopped. Her teeth continued biting down until they reached something a little more solid. I made an uneasy face at her as she- I don't know, prepared herself? Jeez. I frowned, having formed an idea of what was going to happen next. With a wince of anticipation, she bit down violently, and I heard a sharp, but soft crack come from her mouth as her knuckle cracked under the force. Finally, she pulled her finger from her mouth, spitting blood at the floor as she did so. I openly stared at her finger as she inspected it, having already noticed the skin reforming itself over the wound.

Laura gave me a red smile as she pointed to the punching bag. "Punch." Well, at least now I knew she liked theatrics.

I did as I was told and hit the bag hard. I paused, reconsidered, punched the bag harder. I think I got the point.

"Better." she commented, "But still crap though. Harder, don't hold back."

I nodded, and slammed my fist into the bag, it made a satisfying thud and I was sent stumbling back.

"Good. Again. Harder. Brace yourself so you don't lose your balance." I noted her posture, the way her feet were positioned and settled into a similar stance. Laura nodded, "You're like me. Don't worry, just hit. Don't think, just hit." she advised, as I hit the bag over and over again, fighting past the mental barrier that kept me timid.


AN: So, it was kind of angsty, I guess. Not too much though so, yeah. Anyway, there's the chapter and stuff. Also, in response to blueXredXDemonicAngle's review, I know, I'm sorry. Too long. I've chose a weird time to start uploading again too, middle of exams. Screw me right? Well, inspiration has never been said to be regular. Well- actually, who knows. It might have. I'm just making this all up. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter, and again, any criticism is welcome. Well, by 'any' I mean any rational criticism, but you all seem pretty rational so, yeah. Also, I may be going through earlier chapters and editing them of all of the cancerous writing of the 2013 version me. Their probably won't be any huge changes, just little things, like my continuous desire to seperate 'myself' in to two seperate words. Blah. And my misspelling of Rogue that I still haven't fixed. Anyway, hope you all have a good week. ^.^

- Someplace Somewhere