EoH Chronicles: A Matter of Pryde
Part One - Pryde and Prejudice
by RogueStar

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Marvel. This story does not seek to
supersede any copyrights nor to make any profit for the authoress. As this is my own original fiction, I would appreciate if nothing was altered and I was credited. Please feel free to archive and
distribute at will. Apart from that, feel free to send comments about how boring this disclaimer is to
me! Comments about the story would also be nice - I promise to respond to all of them lucidly if not
intelligently.

RogueStar (brucepat@iafrica.com)

"Y'all called, Emissary?" The young women stepped into the office, closing the
polished door behind her. Her hair was close-cropped with a streak of white down the
middle and her green eyes glowed with barely restrained aggression.
"Sabrina Parker." Moira McTaggert read the name off the label on her chest, "From what I hear
you are the top pupil at the academy."

"Been so foh a year now." She executed a crisp salute, "How can Ah help you?"

"If ye would be so kind as tae take a seat, I will explain further."

"Sure." She sat down, stretching out her long legs.
"Computer?" McTaggert said, "Bring up all resources on Project 5469-kappa-pi."

"Retrieving . . . ."

The vidscreen flashed into luminescent life, showing the image of a child.

"Sir, with all due respect, Ah don't know why you need me. She's just a kid."

"That kid' was the first in our super-soldier project . . . the first one tae receive
implants."

"Mah gawd. And she's gone AWOL."

"Aye."

"An' y'all want me ta track her down."

"Aye."

"Fine." Sabrina stood, "Ah'll do everything in mah power ta apprehend her."

"I am placin' great trust in ye - see that ye dinnae fail me."

"Ah won't." She snapped her heels together and lifted her hand to her forehead in a crisp military
salute. "Sir."


"Sir? Kurt has returned?" Unuscione said, as she walked into the room.  The rebel leader lifted his head from the table and looked at her with unnerving red-on-black eyes.

"Send him t'rough."

"And he's not alone."

"Quoi?!"
[What?!]

"A girl is with him."

"Flatscan or mutie?"

"Mutie."

"Could be one o' McTaggert's dogs. Take her to a holdin' cell - I be wit' her in a minute."

"Sir." She nodded, "Should I take Kurt there also?"

"Oui. Don' know whether I c'n trust him any more - ya better keep him dere
f'r now."

"Sir." She nodded, a slight smile playing at her lips.

'Mon dieu, de femme actually enjoys dis.' Remy thought with horror, then
added, "Don't hurt dem too much. We want dem able t'speak."

"Yes, sir."


"I thought you said that your leader was anti-mutant suppression." Pryde said,
trying to slip out of her energy-manacles, "I feel pretty suppressed right now."

"Ja." Kurt said, "But you must understand zat he cannot take any chances - he
is a wanted man."

"Which is why he has shackled you up with me?" She was incredulous. "Some
leader."

"Der other two rebellions have been crushed because they were uncautious.
Der leader doesn't want to make der same mistake."

"Yeah, right. I bet he is attracting beaucoup rebels with this sort of reception."
She grimaced as the plasmoid of the chains grated against her skin, "Can't you teleport out of
these things, contact?"

"Nein. Der leader has implanted restraints in der chains which inhibit mutant
powers."

"I kind of guessed that." She said, "I hoped it was only my powers which were
inhibited."

"Those are?"
"
Intangibility, limited levitation, and . . . ." She held out one hand, "These."

Silver claws sprang from the tips of her fingers, and as the Contact looked
closer, he could see that she had no fingernails.

"Mein Gott. What have they done to you?"

"Don't know," as far as it was possible to do, she shrugged, "Maybe it's
natural."

"Or mebbe it's a trick." A third, strange voice interrupted, "Let's start wit' de
basics - what be ya name an' why are ya here?"

"The name's Pryde and I am here to help stop the Emissary's reign."

She examined the figure who had spoken carefully, storing every feature in her
MemChip for future reference. Height - estimated: 6"2. Eye color - red on black. Clothes - black.
Accent - Acadian.  Probability of being the leader - 97,92748%

"Oui. Dat's what de last one said as well, part from de name t'ing."

His mouth narrowed into a slash, "Turned out t'be a member of de MPF -
didn't want t' sing but ended up in de heavenly choir anyway."

"I'm not." She said, "The Emissary has taken everything from me - my family,
home, life."

"Pity." His tone belied any sympathy, "What can ya help us wit'?"

"Let me go and then I'll tell you."

He laughed, a humorless sound, "Oui. I do dat an' den ya kill me - dat would
be a bright move."

"But . . . ."

"Listen, cherie, kill me an' de rebellion would still go on - ain't arrogant enough
t't'ink dat I'm so important t'de cause."

"D*** you - I am not a traitor." She screamed, "I hate the Emissary and
everything she stands for.  She made me what I am. Less and more than mutant."

"Ya mean . . . ."

"I mean this." She took her arm, and pulled off a strip of skin, handing it to the
leader. He took it, half-disgusted, half-fascinated, feeling its plastic texture.

"Synthskin?" He asked.

"Yeah - along with a whole synth arm, leg and brain."

"Cherie . . . ."

"Pryde."

"Pryde" He corrected himself, "Dis rebellion ain't bout revenge - we ain't goin'
after de Emissary."

"What?!" She said shocked.

"Kill her an' ya create a martyr - make mutants seem like de dangerous betes
dat de humans make dem out t'be." He explained, "But if ya destroy de infrastructure dat keeps her
as de Emissary, she don' have a leg t'stand on. Her an' her whole fascist empire will fall like so
many building blocks."

"I see." She said quietly, "I just don't know if that can be my way as well. All
my life, I've lived for the day when I can kill the Emissary - it's been the only motivation that
kept me going when I wanted to give up."

"Den how about we give ya a new motivation?" He grinned, "If ya want t'join
us here, fight f'r a better t'morrow, we'd be proud t'have ya."

He pressed a button on the wall and the manacles fell away. Pryde fell to the
floor, rubbing her wrists to get the circulation starting once more.

"Find Unuscione - she'll get ya kitted out an' find ya a bunk."

"Thank you, leader."

"Sir'll do."

"Thank you, sir." She said as she walked out of the door and into the main
hall.

The leader, Remy leBeau, waited for her footsteps to fade and then turned on
the Contact, pinning him with a knife against the wall.

"Don' ya ever bring anyone back wit'out my direct permission, y'hear?"
He snarled, "We be lucky dis time, but next time we might not be."

"Yes, sir."

"Good." The leader sheathed the knife, "Dismissed."

"Yes, sir."


"You seen this girl?" Sabrina Parker smiled seductively at the barkeeper as
she held a photograph in front of him, "Ah'd so appreciate it if'n y'all could give me some information
bout her."

"Why?" Guido stopped in the middle of polishing his glass.

Tears came to the woman's eyes and her lower lip quivered, "Ah know this
sounds silly . . . ."

"There, there. . . ." He patted her on the back, comforting her, and felt the
touch of cold metal against his chest. He looked down, a standard issue energy rifle was pointed
at his heart.

"But Ah'm an MPF lieutenant an' Ah'm lookin' foh her foh th' Emissary."

"I saw her here earlier. She was talking with some guy."

"Which guy?"

"I don't know. We get dozens of customers . . . ." He stopped abruptly as he
saw her finger depress the trigger slightly.

"Don't lie ta me, sugah." Her green eyes were cold, "Ah hate liars."

"Guy by the name of the Contact."

"Contact?"

"Of the local rebellion. I think Pryde's gone off to join it."

"Thank you very much." She smiled, holstering her gun, "Ah really appreciate
it if'n you'd forget any o' this evah happened."

Her hand was very soft against his skin, against his cheek, and almost before
he knew it himself, he was unconscious . . . .

To be continued . . . .
 

Footnote:
MPF - Mutant Peacekeeping Force - squad of mutants sent to police
their own.
AWOL - Absent Without Leave


Part Two
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