Rahne’s Harley howled down the unpaved roads, picking up dust like a desert storm in her wake. She raced towards the gates, pile-driving zombies like bowling pins as she finally broke through the main clusterfuck of the sweaty masses, only the desert sun left to compete with her mission to reach Haven.
She had already left her anxieties back on the hoverboard, nerves over dealing with strange mutants and humans alike making her grind her teeth. People she’d never met, or only heard about in school textbooks, or X-Mansion legend. A part of her hoped none of the members of her mutant team were in Haven, the apologies in her head becoming more pathetic and insincere the more they played out. Being trapped in an apocalyptic bunker with the people she’d ditched probably wouldn’t foster any heartfelt reunions. She could smell the tension brewing from the seat of her Harley, and she wasn’t even there, yet.
But, fighting zombies did ease some of the that tension. It was almost meditative by this point...was she so far gone that she’d prefer fighting the zombies that destroyed the planet than face her own anxieties?
In minutes, her mission proved successful as the ornate, black fences of the mansion rose over the horizon, her tongue already panting at the prospect of easily accessible, clean water.
Her bike screeched to a halt before the gates, tires whisking a cloud of dust before her as she stepped from the bike, walking to the gate as she shook out her choppy, red hair, fiery spikes a fatal warning sign.
“Oi, Stark! Got room fer another?” she called over the fence at the wavering guards. It took some convincing, but they allowed her to bring in her bike, so long as it was cleaned of infection properly.
Which led to her also needing to be cleaned properly of the germs of the outside world. She understood, but it was still demeaning and uncomfortable, which put her even futher on the offensive, making up for her awkwardness.
“Please remove any article of clothing, and place it in the bin by the door,” one of the guards instructed, causing Rahne’s eyebrow to shoot up her forehead.
“Is that why ye chose this job? Only way te’ see a pair o’ tits, eh?” Rahne accused, but the guard was unmoved by her jab, as to be expected. She was sure she wasn’t the first big mouth to join the team. And, she didn’t stop throughout the observation, alone in a room to taunt the cameras in the ceiling, throughout the medical check, and, most importantly, the interrogation led by an incompentent doctor that, behind his neutral mask, was sweating bullets. Rahne saw right though that shit.
“Name?” he drawled, clearly this being daily routine for the guy. Maybe the sweat was because she was his first mutant initiate. Didn’t make her any less nervous, overcompensating with her mouth.
“Wouldn’t ye like te’ know,” she retorted, removing his eyes from his clipboard to stare at her. Before he could say anything, she interrupted, “Rahne Sinclair, daughter o’ Dr. Moira MacTaggert an’ former student o’ Professor Charles Xavier. Yeah, it’s impressive. Try not te’ swoon.”
The doctor moved on with his questions, scaling down his list, occasionally sighing at her colorful responses, until she decided things were taking too long. She was about five seconds from wolfing out on this pencil pushing bore.
“Don’t I get a chance te throw in some questions?” she interrupted, startling the doctor who looked at her over his glasses. “What’s yer pet peeve, eh? What grinds yer gears, doctor? Gets ye a bit green under the collar?”
“I- Ms. Sinclair. These questions are designed to evaluate- you know, we should really focus on the questions-”
“It’s when people cough an’ don’t cover their mouth, isn’t it?” she offered. The doctor blanched at her. “Since yer a doctor, ye know all about the nasty germs that’er crawlin’ aroun’ this pristine room, yeah? I’m sure ye’ve had OCD since grad school.”
“...you’re not going to cough on me, are you?” the doctor asked, a serious question, the worry lines deep in his forehead as he clutched the clipboard in his fingers, preparing it as a shield.
“Look, sir. I may be a wolf, but I’m not an animal,” she laughed as his eyes widened. “I could see ye dancin’ aroun’ the real question, so I just answered it fer ye. Professional courtesy.”
“Wolf...wolf...like wolverine?” he stupidly asked, making her frown at him.
“No, he’s got his own thing goin’ for ‘im. Metal claws, very slice an’ dice. Yeah, no. I’m an actual wolf,” she enunciated, smiling at his confusion. “Like, howl at the moon, lift up my leg an’ pee on a bush kinda actual wolf...I can see the gears grindin’ now,” she laughed, entertained by his stunned silence as she leaned back in her chair, popping the gum in her mouth she’d kept hidden from medical check just to see if she could do it. “So, what other questions do ye have fer me on that pointless cheat sheet there?”
“Wait, where’d you get the gum?” he asked worriedly.
“Oh, I hid it in the roof of my mouth. Waited for the right moment to pop it,” she bragged as she blew a bubble, letting it pop in the silence. “This feels right.”
A light flashed on the top of the door to the interrogation room with a loud buzz, bringing the doctor back to his senses. He quickly gathered his supplies and rushed out the door without taking a second look at the red-head, the rapid pounding of his heart thudding through Rahne’s ears as he went, the words, “she’s a menace,” being spoken before the door was closed behind him.
But as soon as she earned her confidence, it was all shredded by the new prescence that walked through the door, a steady heartbeat indicating this person meant business. This one she wouldn’t scare so easy.
“Ye gonna ask me somethin’ that matters like, why am I here?”
