DISCLAIMER: Pryde and Wisdom, Excalibur and the X-Men all are trademarks of Marvel Comics. The background characters mentioned (Brigadier Ferguson, his Scotland Yard deputy and his man Dillon) are of course Brigadier Charles Ferguson, Chief Inspector Hannah Bernstein and Sean Dillon from Jack Higgins' series of thriller novels (including "On Dangerous Ground", "Angel of Death", "Drink with the Devil", "The President's Daughter").
This story is a wholly unauthorized work done purely for my own personal enjoyment, and is not intended to infringe on any of their rights in or profits from these characters. But this story is copyright to me.
WARNING: There is no explicit sex or violence in this story, but there is some considerable mention of adult material such as alcoholism and murder. So be warned...
If you want to comment, send email to <LubaKmetyk@worldnet.att.net>
Gehenna: Prologue
by Luba Kmetyk
Prologue
The normally graceful brunette almost stumbled off the uneven stoop, the exhaustion of the past several days rolling over her like a tidal wave. Her big brown eyes were red-rimmed, and her head ached. The only sleep she'd gotten as the past few days and nights blurred together into one continuous nightmare had been short restless catnaps at odd hours. Her mouth felt dry and gritty, her stomach grumbled with hunger pangs unsatisfied by a few small snacks snatched during her brief excursions, her throat was raw and sore from constant pleading and arguing with her unresponsive, stubborn-jackass man, and she didn't even want to *think* about how badly she must smell, staying in the same clothes for days without a change.
She still found it hard to believe Pete had kept Culley's bolthole for himself. But his having a key for the shiny new doorlock replacing the one he'd burned out when they'd been searching for his old friend, as well as the undeniable fact that Wisdom had *known* the place would be empty, and available, meant that he'd deliberately chosen to hang on to a private hideout of his own, even as he'd joined Excalibur, even as he'd given up the cheap and messy -- but otherwise quite ordinary --convenience flat he'd lived in during his Black Air years at Kitty's persuasion, even as they'd essentially begun living together on Muir.
However, she hadn't been a bit surprised to see Pete hadn't made any effort to clean the place up inside, as vividly revealed by the single bare bulb hanging down from the cracked, water-stained ceiling. They'd taken away Culley's scattered papers on their earlier visit, but the mad slogans written across the walls were still there, the dripping blood only blackened with time. The bare, broken-springed mattresses still lay stacked crookedly directly on the litter-strewn floor, only partially covered by what looked like the same tattered blanket. The stale air reeked of vomit and urine and excrement, the miasma worst in the corner with the ancient khazi but inescapable anywhere in the close, confined space.
Kitty was a bit ashamed of the heartfelt sigh of relief she heaved as soon as she'd phased out of the dingy flat, and the speed at which she'd lurched down the rickety stairs, out onto the dark Soho streets, but she couldn't help herself. She didn't want to leave Pete alone, she really didn't -- especially in his current state -- but she had to get out of that horrid room occasionally, even if only for a brief respite, for the sake of her own sanity.
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