Broken Space

Jack still isn't sure how he became a cat owner, but the calico proof is currently standing on his chest. He's sprawled on the floor of the rec room with a cushion beneath his head, taunting Bloddeuwedd playfully with a finger and ignoring the needle-sharp bite of kitten claws through his shirt, laughing softly as she pounces, gnawing on his finger with a fierceness that seems out of place in such a small body. "Could've used you on some of our missions," he confides, amused. "I'll bet an acid-spitting alien wouldn't scare you." Bloddeuwedd's only response is to roll onto her back so she can put all four paws into the effort of separating Jack's finger from his hand.

This is a much better way to spend the night than lying in bed alone.

Jon was not at Summerfell, because somehow Ghost had managed to get himself absolutely filthy so that when he'd first appeared after his morning trek for a moment Jon had thought he was Summer. Then he realized that they brown and white wolf had red eyes, not amber.

"You know what this means," Jon had murmured, scratching Ghost underneath the muzzle. "You get a bath, with soap."

It had taken more time than he'd expected, leading the wolf to the river that ran from Summerfell to the ocean, and lathering his fur with the soap. Neither party had particularly enjoyed it, and (on purpose, he was sure), Ghost had made certain to get Jon just was wet.

But the white coat eventually emerged, after three or four washings, and, his now soaked black t-shirt and jeans clinging to him, he set up on a nearby rock for an afternoon nap while, and the smelly wet wolf, dried.

"If you get that dirty again I'll sic Sansa on you," Jon threatens drowsily. "And tell her to give you a nice frilly pink bow."

So far Julio hadn't really gotten much out of the island probably because he'd been keeping to himself. Sure, he recognized a few people, but it wasn't like they would know who he was. Or like he felt like explaining. Maybe if he'd kept his powers he would have tried, but being barely mutant if he was still mutant at all... It just seemed better not to make the first move.

Instead, he thought he ought to see about making himself somewhere to live. In theory, it sounded pretty simple, but the truth was by the end of a few hours, he hadn't built much of anything and Rictor was pretty sure building a hut on his own was the stupidest idea he'd had since listening to Jamie's dupe up on the roof a handful of months before arriving on the island.

Wiping some sweat off his brow and noticing that it had gotten pretty dark out, he headed back to the compound. Sleeping in a building with AC didn't seem like such a bad idea after all.

Tory's doing Torchwood research in the rec room, his legs thrown over one arm of a chair as he leans back against the other. Edward's been in an...interesting mood, he might call it, for a few days, and he's not sure what's been going on. Not that Edward would say - he's not always so forthcoming about his feelings.

Regardless, Tory's got work to do and while he could do it at the house, he doesn't especially feel like it, with Edward being broody. So here he is, in relative comfort. There are worse ways to live a life, he thinks.

[Note: The dialogue prior to his arrival on the island is from X-Factor volume 3: The Many Lives of Madrox]

Regardless of what anyone said about him, Rictor knew he had never been lucky. He also had never known when to keep his mouth shut hence the possibly making Rahne hate him for the rest of his life. Thank God for rude interruptions. He was relieved when they were dealing with an actual issue and he even felt better once they'd beaten up some guys in a nearby alley instead of handling the situation more diplomatically. Then again, when was anyone in X-factor diplomatic? Besides, the men had been trying to beat up some kid.

Walking over to the man he'd knocked out, Rictor crouched down and shifted through his pockets. He frowned when he pulled out something that definitely wasn't a wallet although it was wallet-shaped. "Aw crap," he muttered, not bothering to rise to his feet. "Crap crap crappity crap."

"What is it now?" Rahne asked, crossing her arms and glaring down at him.

He offered her a somewhat sheepish, troubled look. "You know how we punched them and kicked them while they were in mid-sentence, so they never got a chance to finish what they were actually saying?"

"So? Who gives a damn what the muggers have to say?"

Julio flipped open the badge and sighed. "When they're Federal agents, I think they might be worth listening to." He told Rahne to check out the other guy and, of course he had a badge too.

And just as she was trying to convince him that the badges might be fakes, someone ordered them to "Freeze! You so much as twitch and we'll blow you to hell and gone."

Lo and behold, they were completely and utterly screwed. There were agents on the ground in front of them, and there were agents in the sky above them. He didn't have to see their faces to know that they were probably pissed off. Crap.

"Remember that whole 'appearances can be deceiving' thing?" he asked without really thinking about it.

"Shut up, Rictor."

"You are under arrest!" yelled one of the helmeted officers. The rest of them were busy pointing a whole bunch of weapons in Rahne and Julio's general direction.

The former mutant risked a glance at his teammate, but when he did, Rahne wasn't actually there. Glancing forward, he didn't see any agents. Or the alley. Or anything that had been there less than five seconds ago. On one hand, Rictor was happy that there weren't any Feds. On the other hand, why was everything else gone?

He tried to figure out what was going on. Possibly Jamie was pulling a prank, but he couldn't picture Madrox executing a prank this sophisticated. Or tropical. "Um... What the heck?" he asked no one in particular before shrugging out of his sweater that was part of his uniform not that he was wearing anything that special or important to signify he was part of X-Factor Investigations outside of the green trousers that matched the sweater and his belt buckle with an X on it.

But Julio wasn't going to bother wearing the sweater when he had a t-shirt on underneath. The real motivation, of course, was the fact that it was hot and there was no way he would last long wearing wool. Not that he was sure he'd last long anyway.

Trying to be optimistic, Rictor started to follow what looked like a decent path around various palm trees and other plants, hoping he'd find someone eventually who would be able to make what had happened to him make any kind of sense at all.