x_project | Penance drabble

Written by [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] 'cause I asked him to.

*Summer, 1999*

"~You look so silly. Your feet cannot even reach the pedals.~"

Yvette Petrovic frowned at her cousin's teasing, one arm holding onto the edge of a rain barrel while she tried to kick her feet and reach the pedals of the battered bicycle. It had belonged to an older relative, who was off in Srebrenica working in a factory and sending money home, and besides he'd left it for her anyway! She was six years old - *almost seven!* - and it didn't matter if she couldn't reach the pedals, she could always push herself along and it was better than walking down the dusty streets with their cracked concrete and the spread of garbage.

"~Here, give me a try!~" her cousin Serj insisted, grabbing the handlebars. "~I am older, you should listen to me.~"

But Yvette was listening to the strange whistling noise, her head cocked towards the sky. In the distance, in the hills surrounding Pristina, they were used to seeing the puffs of dirt and smoke and hearing the muffled thumps of mortar rounds. Such was life. This, though, was different. The grey-painted jets screaming overhead, the whistling of bombs and the sudden wind that carried a harsh stinging dust through the streets.

She didn't hear the noise, or Serj yelling at her to come inside. She just stood staring at the blue sky and wondering why something so dangerous could make such a pretty noise. When Serj grabbed her arm and yanked her off the street to the basement, she still heard nothing, not even when they fell down and saw the bent and broken bicycle tumble past them, the pedals twisted and blackened.

Yvette thought she'd understand someday. Today she was only six years old.

*Summer, 2009*

"When in the course of hu... human events, it becomes necessary..." she mumbled the words as she read along in her history book, the drudgery of summer classes seeming unfair on such a beautiful day. On the one hand, she was not cooped up in one of the mansion's classrooms listening to Professor Farouk. On the other, she was sitting in the boathouse, alternating between reading pages from American History and sorting faxes into different-colored folders for the other Elpis employees.

But it was still so bright outside, and she pouted as she rested her elfin chin in a hand, her crimson fingers tapping against her cheek in boredom. Idly, she tugged at an errant curl of hair that had escaped the headband of self-repairing cloth. She wondered for a moment if when the day came that she could finally control her powers, that she could finally get a haircut.

Closing her textbook, she reached over to the next desk and grabbed one of Monet's magazines, carefully turning the pages looking at the models with their haute-couture coifs and precisely made-up faces. Unconsciously, she sat up straight in her chair, tilting her shoulders like the models on the page. Yes, she decided, on that day the first thing she would do would be to visit a salon and get a haircut like-

*like a real girl?*

-she shook her head and dismissed the voice as she closed the magazine and looked out the window. It was a beautiful summer day. Studying and filing could wait, today there would be sun and swimming and maybe even the making of the cannonballs and splashing of the boys. She could at least act like a real girl today.

*Summer, 2019*

Invulnerable skin didn't mean you were untouchable, Penance thought as she bounced off the concrete and rolled back to her feet. She could feel the odd crawling sensation of her black uniform reknitting from where the tumble had abraded it and a smile crossed her face. A smile quickly wiped off by a blur of motion in front of her, and another super-strong fist colliding with her chest, this time sending her through a storefront, smashing televisions and stereo receivers as she landed.

"~Son of a whore~," she swore in Serbian as she brushed fragments of glass and plastic out of her hair. Mentally switching to English, she tapped the communicator in her ear. "Penance to Firestar. The ugly one is occupied now, send the rest of the team after the hostages. Please to be hurrying, yes?" Her last words were spoken with a smile, and an intentional thickening of her accent. Her mirth was short-lived as a shadow blocked the sun from her view.

"Going to rip you apart, girly-girl," the behemoth in front of her threatened. Easily seven feet tall and almost as broad, the leonine pelt covering his body was now covered with the dust of battle. One clawed hand reached down to grab the front of Yvette's uniform.

"Have you ever read the books of Hemingway?" Penance asked, a wry grin crossing her face. Almost delicately, she reached up to place her tiny hands in the crook of her opponent's elbows as he lifted her.

The mutant terrorist grunted as he hoisted her up and off the ground, fanged teeth exposed in a grimace. "I don't read that crap," he snarled. "Why, you got some book that'll keep me from tearing your throat out?"

"I do have a favorite," Penance said, her smile vanishing as her eyes glowed blue and her fingers lengthened and sharpened while her skin darkened to a deep crimson. "_A Farewell to Arms_."

Swiping down, she felt herself fall and land in a crouch, the sound of two large hands hitting the floor next to her, followed shortly by a high-pitched scream completely at odds with the now-crippled enemy backing away from her. She raised one taloned hand, standing and advancing. "You should not have started this war," she said flatly as she walked towards her prey. "But the X-Men, we will finish it."

*Summer, 2029*

The wind was warm on her face as she stood on the porch, sundress fluttering in the breeze. No hat shaded her eyes, and her tousled auburn hair swung as she watched the children chase each other across the south lawn of the Xavier Institute.

"Professor! Professor!" came the call from a young boy as he awkwardly wheeled a bicycle out onto the circular drive and pushed himself forward, his short legs barely reaching the pedals. "I think I have it this time!"

"Of course you do, Joshua," Yvette said, walking over and placing a hand on the boy's shoulder to steady him as he glided forward on the bike. "You have been practicing for a long time, after all. All thing will come to us, in time."

*All things, in time*

The sound of a jet engine made her glance upwards, as she saw the shadow of the Blackbird IV grow smaller, rising up above the mansion on gently curving wings before it ascended into the sky, the roar of the thrusters turning into a fading whistle.

She heard Joshua whoop as he rounded the corner of the drive, wobbly but steady on the bicycle. Blue eyes sparkling for a moment, Yvette Petrovic smiled.

And for a second, was six years old again.