"Fearless" - Part 8

Author: Notmanos

E-mail: notmanos at yahoo dot com

Rating: R

Disclaimer: The characters of Angel are owned by 20th Century Fox and Mutant Enemy; the
character of Wolverine is also owned by 20th Century Fox and Marvel Comics. No copyright
infringement intended. I'm not making any money off of this, but if you'd like to be a patron of the
arts, I won't object. ;-) Oh, and Bob is *my* character - keep your hands off!

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Phobos grunted and made a dismissive hand gesture, not even bothering to look at him. "You're too annoying to keep around."

"And yet you claim you're not one of my ex-wives?" Again, a joke that zoomed over his partially fleshed head. Bob caught a small, dark movement out of the corner of his eye, and knew instantly what it was a - a little snake. A garter snake probably, one of those tiny cute ones, black with a red racing stripe down its sides.

He was pretty sure he felt it slip into his boot before Phobos ripped him out of Degei's realm and brought him here; it slithered out of his boot and into the cavern before the semi-liquid rock could solidify over his leg. It probably should have occurred to Phobos to look out for any snaky messengers Deggy may have sent, but he was so arrogant he probably thought he couldn't react that fast, nor would he bother - he was the Sweden of the Higher Realms, after all. But he was only neutral when you didn't invade his space, and maybe when you didn't kidnap his friends.

Still, he was Degei, some sort of island god, minor league Higher - why should a heavy hitter like Phobos give a shit?

Shen Yi was still trying to make contact with him, a distant voice of mental strain, but he knew if Phobos caught it he'd probably hurt him some more ( hard to believe - Shen Yi sounded pained enough ). So even though it was going to be tough going without breath, he started to sing. And really loud too; not just to test the acoustics of the place, but to really get on Phobby's nerves. "Save me, the heavens have opened, the storm is over, so let's start the parade - "

Phobos cringed, bringing his disturbingly long hands to his flappy ears, and shouted, "Stop that infernal noise!"

Nothing like Mr. Bungle to really get under people's skin right away. He decided to sing him a greatest hits sample ( overlooking the fact that you had to sell albums to have hits ), just to be that much more irritating. "I'm elated, I could cut you, and remove the sheath of your ignorance - " And while shouting that more than singing, he mentally sent to Shen Yi *Hang in there - I'm not alone. Everyone only thinks I'm a fool.*

Bob had to stop singing as Phobos gestured violently back at him, and he felt something like a knife twist in his gut, even beneath the stone. If he had any breath, it would have taken it away. "I said shut up!"

He had to give himself a moment to recover - the pain reverberated through his body like an echo in this cave - but now that he knew it annoyed him that much, how could he stop? "Your lips say one thing but the drugs say another. How can I massage this intergalactic ulcer?"

"I could rip your tongue out," Phobos sneered, looking over his shoulder at him. Well, not precisely looking - you needed eyes to look.

"And I could grow it back, so what's the point in that?"

"It would keep you quiet for a moment."

"Yeah, but just a moment. Hardly worth the effort."

Phobby's impressively wide and ugly mouth contorted in what he assumed to be an evil grimace ( even more disturbing than his far too skinny lips was the fact that he seemed to have absolutely no chin at all ), and he turned back to the hovering globe. The energy inside seemed to swirl more violently, and Bob knew exactly what he was doing - maybe he'd picked up on Shen Yi after all.

"Hey, leave him the fuck alone!" When Phobos showed no sign of having paid any attention to him, he added, "I'm going to start singing the entire libretto of "Tommy" if you don't stop hurting him right this second!"

Luckily, he didn't have to try and do a Roger Daltry trapped in a wall impersonation, as finally someone got off their big immortal ass and showed up.

Phobby felt the spatial intrusion at the same time he did, and spun to face ( so to speak ) the intruder with his hands raised to fight, but it was a bigger gun than him coming in, and he never had a chance. He had almost turned completely around towards the rift when he went flying across the cavern at about mach ten, hitting the right side wall and going straight through it, plunging through the solid rock wall like it was made of marshmallow fluff.

"Say cheese baby, we all love you," Bob sang, as the living rock around him died, becoming a fragile crust with no more weight than dried food on the bottom of a dirty plate. "But it's a cheap world and you don't exist." He pulled away from the wall, and what crust didn't fall away he brushed off.

Eris stood near the end of the table, dressed in brown leather and looking like some odd cross between a hunter and a fashion model, but with her arms crossed over her chest and a dour frown on her otherwise inscrutable face, it was clear she was unimpressed by her nephew's choice of hideouts. "This is pathetic," she said. The understatement of the century.

This was the plan all along, of course. Bob figured if he started nosing around, someone on the Ares team would come to shut him up or coerce him into joining their side. It seemed like a bloody obvious set up, but just because it was so perfectly obvious he was sure it would never occur to the arrogant Ares that it was a ruse, and not just Bob being a nosy dumbass.

He also knew he could count on getting a snake - a failsafe tracking device - from Degei, although he hated using him like that, and he had no idea that Phobos wouldn't even wait for him to leave Degei's realm before grabbing him. Talk about stones.

Osiris, still looking like Roy Batty with bird eyes, only now clad in a black leather outfit that made him look like an android working for the SS, approached the table as if in awe, eyes glued to the glowing globe containing the energies of Shen Yi. "Of course, yes, that's perfect," he gasped, reaching for it.

Bob scowled, able to smell his craven avarice from here. "Ice pick," he said, making a bee line for the table.

Sy screamed and grabbed his head with his clawed hands as the pain stabbed straight into his excuse for a brain, and he reeled back from the globe.

"If you must fight, take it elsewhere," Eris said, sounding uninterested. She had yet to shift expression or position, and seemed to be waiting for Phobos to pull himself together and crawl out of the hole in the wall. Of course if he was smart he wouldn't - his Aunt could kick his ass eight ways 'til doomsday - but she had probably blocked off all the exits so he couldn't leave. He'd have no choice but to face her eventually.

"Shen Yi's been tortured enough," Bob snapped, although he was aiming it at Sy - like Eris would give a shit. "Now back off or I'll teleport you to Griblitz."

"Try it, exile," he growled, still grabbing his head protectively. "Why don't you think? What he did for them he could do for us."

"He was violently disembodied against his will! He's a prisoner, Sy, and you are not going to use him like a tool, or reabsorb him for his power."

"Oh no," Degei said sadly, materializing behind Bob. The little garter snake ( yep, he was right - black with a red stripe ) slithered across the floor and quickly joined Deggy, coiling up his leg and becoming a part of his body. "Poor Shen. No wonder he disappeared."

Bob took the globe, and he felt the thank you of Shen Yi through the protective crystal as he handed the globe of Shen to Degei. "Take care of him."

Deggy nodded solemnly as he took the globe. He was not death's gatekeeper, but he could take care of the dead ( and sort of dead ) quite well, and had no interest in exploiting them, unlike Sy.

Sy snarled as he looked at him, lowering his arms, but from the way that vein in his temple throbbed, Sy still hurt. Aww, poor baby. "You're making a big mistake, Bob."

"Neither the first time nor last," he admitted, turning away to face Deggy. he knew he was just here to get his snake, and had no real interest in the machinations going on. Degei's eyes looked even more luminous in the reflected light of Shen Yi. "Thanks for the save, mate."

He shrugged, which looked like the snakes simply adjusting themselves on his shoulder blades, and said, "I guess you had other friends coming for you."

"They're no one's friends. They came for him, not me."

Deggy nodded, granting him that. He then whispered, in a voice like a snake hiss, "Are you sure you'll be okay here?"

Bob couldn't help but smile. Deggy was worried about him, bless him. He leaned in, and whispered, "I know they think they got me beat power wise, and most of 'em do, but throwin' me down on the Human plane and strippin' me of my powers was the best thing that ever happened to me. 'Cause I had to learn to survive, and these pampered bastards never had to do that. So I got that on them no matter what."

Deggy studied him for a moment, eyes very bright. "They never gave you your powers back, did they?"

Bob grinned, and was about to admit that officially no, he just took them back anyways, but then he caught wind of the shift of Sy's thoughts, and he snapped his head around and growled, "Don't you even think about it."

A black mamba reared up from Degei's head and spat a long and deeply intimidating hiss that made Sy take a step back. Even death gods paused at the idea of being attacked by a few thousand avatar serpents.

Bob patted Deg's arm, palm scraping against his dry, scaled skin, and told him, "You'd better get Shen out of here - if he convinces Eris this is a good idea, we're screwed."

He nodded, and said, "Drop by sometime. We never finished our tea."

"Count on it, mate."

Degei then disappeared into thin air, taking his snakes and the remaining energy of Shen Yi with him, robbing Sy of any attempt to rally Eris to his cause. To launch an attack on Degei himself in Kauvadra Hills
was extremely risky - it wasn't so much the land of the dead as the land of mists and fog, shadows and snakes. All of it, in fact, was snakes; a living world made up entirely of serpents loyal beyond measure to their one true god. Even Eris, with all her power, would think twice about taking on an entire realm full of angry, poisonous fanatics.

He felt Sy's eyes burning into him, and he turned around and gave him a snarky grin. "Ain't we all on the same side?"

Sy raised a single pale blond eyebrow at him, not completely hiding his sneer. "Are we?"

"Stop it," Eris said flatly, in a way that made it clear it was an order. "This can wait until later. Phobos has some questions to answer."

Yes, this piss fight portion of the proceedings would have to wait until Phobos was gutted, grilled, and served. If he ever crawled out of his bloody hole.

Man, some people - they could dish it out, but they just couldn't take it.

The scream ripped through his mind like a buzzsaw, and Scott didn't jolt awake more than he was thrown headlong into consciousness. He was on his feet, bringing a hand up to his visor, before he realized he was actually awake, and not wearing his visor.

He cursed quietly and closed his eyes as he took off the glasses he derisively called his "sleep goggles" and put them on the nightstand, finding by touch his visor. He barely had it on by the time he stumbled out the bedroom door, into the hallway. Only when the soles of his feet touched the cool wooden floor did he realize he was barefoot, and his mind remained so sleep fogged he had to glance down and check that he was wearing clothes. Yes, good - he wasn't one of those people who slept naked anyways, it was just best to be aware of how many clothes you actually had on.

And now reality was starting to rush in; in spite of the sleep goggles and being barefoot, he had the same clothes on he was wearing earlier, as he hadn't bothered to change out before laying down. Well he was only going to get an hour or so of z's, then he was going back down to the lab to check on Jeannie ...

Scream. She screamed - that was her. Shit.

His heart was triphammering as he ran for the elevator, and he only paused as he saw several of the telepathic kids peeking out from the doors of their rooms. The oldest of them all asked, "What's happening, Mr. Summers?"

He knew exactly who it was from her icy cool British accent alone. It was amazing how many of these kids he could identify without actually looking at them. "I'm not really sure, Emma, but it's all right. Everybody go back to bed .... until further notice." He really didn't know what to tell them - he was sleep lagged and scared shitless, especially since he now realized he hadn't heard the scream with his ears; it was in his mind. That's why all the telepaths were up, they heard it too.

Emma made a disdainful noise - you could tell she was upper class private school in every single one of her mannerisms - but he didn't bother to look back and make sure they obeyed as he dove into the nearest elevator, and tried to will it to the lower levels faster. He kept thinking in his mind, "Jean? Jean please respond. Jean?"

He was not telepathic; he just had a telepathic link with Jean that was extremely one sided - he couldn't send her a thought unless she was already in his head. But because the mental scream came from her, he picked it up too. There were some real drawbacks to being the purely receptive one in a relationship.

The elevator seemed slower than normal, but he knew it was probably just his own perceptions as the door finally slid aside, and he rushed to the lab. Of course she might not be there now, but since that was where he last saw her, it seemed like the logical place to start.

"Jean?" He asked hopefully, as the door opened on the brightly lit lab. Even though he was hoping for the best ( whatever that could possibly be ), he had a hand raised to his visor, just in case.

Nothing seemed amiss, not at first. Logan was still laid out on the far table where he last saw him, the monitors bleeping and breaking up the otherwise pristine silence, and everything was neat and in its place. But where the hell was Jean?

He moved into the room warily, unjustifiably paranoid, and that's when he noticed the shadow on the floor, on the far side of Logan's table. But it wasn't a shadow - it was a body.

"Jean!" He raced to her, kneeling beside her as he took her face in his hands. Her face was slack with unconsciousness, and she seemed extremely pale, her lips a bloodless pink, the shadows beneath her eyes as dark as bruises. Her skin felt cold beneath his hands, like she'd been in a refrigerator.

He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the nearest table, still searching her visually for any sign of injury. She looked perfectly fine, just out cold in the most literal sense of the term.

The door opened, and the Professor appeared. "What happened, Scott?"

"I don't know, I'm still trying to figure that out," he admitted, turning on the monitors. At least he knew how to do that much.

The Professor's wheelchair glided over, the barely audible electric hum seemingly loud in the small room, and he looked between Jean and Logan. He had dark circles under his eyes, but since he was still wearing the dark grey suit he was wearing earlier, Scott figured he hadn't gotten any sleep yet either.

"Logan's back," the Professor noted, with some surprise.

Scott turned, expecting Logan to be sitting up and glaring at them in his usual good mood, but Logan was still flat out on the table. Then he realized what the Professor meant - the gash on Logan's arm, and the subsequent black veins, were gone, as were the deep bruises on his chest and the various injuries on his face and neck; there was only a crust of dried blood to give the appearance that he was still hurt. According to the readouts, his vital signs looked to be back to normal - well, for him. Some mutants had really odd vital signs; that one Logan brought in last, Sun, the gender metamorph, turned out to have two hearts, as well as superfluous versions of every hormone secreting gland you could name. He knew that because Jean found it fascinating, and he got to hear all about it over both lunch and dinner. And there was nothing like hearing about pituitary glands to put you off your feed. "He's not conscious."

"No," the Professor admitted, his brow furrowing in concentration as he stared through Logan. "But he could be."

Scott wasn't sure he understood that, but then telepaths had their own language. "Huh?"

"He's choosing to remain unconscious." Fine lines bunched in the corners of his eyes as he pondered that, and then he turned his ice blue gaze on Jean. "She's submerged."

Scott didn't want to have ask "Huh" again, so he just waited for Xavier to fill him in.

"I think she's suffered some tremendous psychic shock."

"Like what? And how?"

The Professor considered that a moment before he shook his head, scowling in frustration. "I'm not sure."

"Was she attacked?" That's what he was afraid of, and he didn't care that he wasn't a telepath; he'd hunt the bastard down and blast him straight into next year. No one hurt her, not while he was still alive and kicking.

"I'm not picking up any trace of that ..." Still frowning, his eyes scudded from Jean's face to Logan's, and Scott turned, feeling a sudden but not unfamiliar anger towards Logan.

"Did he have something to do with this?"

The Professor glanced up at him, giving him that stern "you know better" look he had seen a dozen times before. "Logan would never hurt her, Scott. You know that."

"Do I? He'd hurt the rest of us without blinking."

Xavier's frown deepened the lines in his face. "No he wouldn't." Briefly, his expression transformed into one of bleak humor,and he said, "You never did settle this, did you?"

Scott grimaced and stared down at Logan, fighting back the urge to just haul off and punch him - that would make him conscious. "But he had something to do with this, didn't he? It's a hell of a coincidence he's no longer dying, but she's comatose. It's like they ... " His voice dropped as the thought occurred to him. " ... switched places." That couldn't possibly be, could it? No ... besides, Jean would never do something that stupid. Three Logans still weren't worth one of her.

But she had some kind of soft spot for this asshole, didn't she? She seemed so distraught when she thought he was actually dying ... oh god, she couldn't have risked her life for him, could she have?

( Or maybe not oh god. Had Bob made him an atheist yet? )

"That's not what happened," Xavier said, still frowning between Logan and Jean. "But Jean isn't going to idly sit by and watch someone die if she can stop it in some way."

Okay, that was true - Logan or not, he didn't know anyone with a greater sense of compassion than Jean. That was one of the things he loved about her. "So what did happen?" Scott grabbed one of her cold hands, and tried to warm it between his. He hoped she knew he was here, waiting for her.

Xavier shook his head in frustration. "I don't know. I think I'll have to find out."

Scott raised an eyebrow at him, wondering how he planned to do just that - and if it would put him in the same danger that caught Jean.

The funny thing was, he went from one lab straight into another. But they sort of appeared as before and after - before the hurricane hit, and after.

This lab had been attacked: instruments and trays lay scattered and broken across the floor, while metal cupboard doors were so deeply dented they were warped, some just hanging on by a single hinge. A freestanding cabinet that had been welded to the floor had been torn out and thrown across the room, spilling out its contents like entrails.

And Logan sat crosslegged on an exam table, head in his hands in a posture of defeat and frustration.

"Did you have to take it out on your own mind?" Xavier wondered. Despite the trappings, it was Logan's mind, and he had inadvertently taken his rage out on himself.

Logan looked at him, a sour expression on his face. "Yeah. It's my fucking fault."

"How so?" Xavier bent down and picked up a warped metal tray, which he placed on a dented counter. It was interesting to note that Logan had never used his claws; he had simply taken out his frustration with his fists and his feet, never giving into his more vicious side.

Logan shook his head, and hid his face in his hands. "If she was sensible, she'd just have let me go. I ain't worth it."

"Worth what?"

"Saving."

Being a telepath did have some perks, such as being able to easily see through a person's bluster. Logan walked around with a full protective suit of armor, the better to keep people at a distance, and while it was easy to mistake it for arrogance ( in fact, he was happy for people to think that ), at heart, Logan ached - he often believed he was the animal some people accused him of being, and then he wondered if what had been done to him was his fault; classic victim mentality. Maybe if he'd been stronger, faster, meaner, smarter, or simply a better person, none of this would have happened. Maybe, if he simply gave up, the world would be a better place. It was always difficult to look at a man as stubborn, flippant, and aggressive as Logan, and realize he was a classic depressive. "Jean would disagree with you," he pointed out. "And so would I."

He simply grunted, a dismissive sound that skirted the edge of being offensive. Xavier ignored it, because he knew Logan just wanted him to go away. "What did she do?"

After a moment, Logan said, "She said something about telekinetically jump starting my healing factor, but maybe something went wrong, or she was lyin' about how it would effect her, I don't know, but all I know is I probably killed her."

"You did no such thing. And she's still alive." Telekinetic jump start? He tried to work out the logistics of that, and wasn't sure he could. It was an intriguing idea, though.

Logan looked up at him, and he appeared to be so surprised and lost in thought he forgot to hate himself for a second. "She is?"

"Is that why you've remained unconscious?" Xavier was pretty sure he could hear the electronic beeps of monitors and the murmur of Scott's voice very faintly, as if at the end of the outside corridor. But since he was in Logan's mind, this was his perceptions; that was the real world he refused to go back to, even though he had to know damn well he could. But he had stayed here as penance, or simply because he wasn't ready to face the outside world.

"Is she all right?" Logan asked, ignoring his question.

Xavier tried to go out of his way to avoid the emotional lives of both students and the adults on the premises, because they deserved their privacy, he was not a voyeur, and frankly all that could come of it was trouble. But being in Logan's mind he could not ignore the feelings this exchange prompted, and he resolved to forget it as soon as he was back in his own mind, even thought it undoubtedly troubled him. Logan feeling that much for Jean could only lead to continuing troubles between him and Scott ... especially if it was reciprocated. "She seems to have suffered a great psychic shock, but I'm not sure why. I came here hoping you could tell me why."

Logan unfolded his legs and let them dangle over the side of the table, resting his palm on his knees. He looked both concerned and determined. "Could pain have caused it?"

"Pain?"

"My healin' hurts. I mean I'm used to it, it's like the pain when I pop my claws, you know? An every day pain; just somethin' that happens. But maybe 'cause she amped it, it was more than usual. I could handle it - it was bad, but I've had worse - but I don't think she was ready for it. I mean ... I guess she felt it too, I'm not sure ... maybe that wasn't it. As soon as I realized she was feelin' it too I tried to break the connection, but it wasn't in time. I don't think she wanted to let go."

"She probably didn't." Logan wasn't the only terminally stubborn person around here.

"Why is 'Clops the team leader? She's got more balls than he does."

He smiled faintly. "You tell him that. Or better yet, don't."

Logan sat with his head cocked, like he was listening to the sounds of the outside world, but Xavier knew he wasn't. He was searching around in his mind for something else. After a moment, he said, "I think Bob once said something about doors being left open in the mind - that once you go in, it kinda leaves a passage. Am I making any sense at all?"

Xavier nodded, not surprised he was getting used to all these mindscapes and their special rules. How many telepaths had he had in his head? And that was not even counting the special cases of Bob or Heydon. "Yes. Connections are left, which is what I believe you're indicating."

"Yes. Do you think I can go after her?"

Xavier studied him a moment, considering what he was asking. "You think you could find the connection between her mind and yours?"

"I'm a good hunter. If it's out there, I'll find it."

It didn't matter that Logan wasn't psionically inclined - he believed that. It was also possible Bob had left things in his mind, even if it was just residue, that Logan could put to some use. Logan was nothing if not resourceful. "She's submerged quite deep. How do you think you can help her?" Xavier hated to ask him that, but he had to. It was a nice idea, and certainly Logan would be happy if he could aid her in return, but how could he exactly? Even Xavier wasn't completely sure what he could do, except guide her back.

"I don't know. But it's my pain, and she shouldn't suffer because of it. Maybe there's some way I can take it back. I was made for pain."

Xavier stared at him, and wondered if Logan really understood what he had just said - "made for pain". Not born for it, or ready for it, but made, like he was a machine. It could have been simply a figure of speech, but he didn't think so; slips of the tongue - and the mind - could be very illuminating. Or, in this case, sadly revealing. Did Logan honestly think of himself more as a thing than a person? "I don't know if it's that simple, Logan." He meant that for what Logan had said, and for what he had meant. How bitterly ironic that a man who could get past any physical injury had a psychic wound that never seemed to heal.

He snorted humorously. "I'm sure it ain't, Chuck - nothing is. But I think I owe her this one. And look, if it doesn't bring her back, you could ... like, follow the trail, right? Come in to help?"

"I wouldn't want to channel my telepathy through your mind."

"Why? If I could handle Bob's energy, yours'd be a breeze."

Xavier had to give him that. If comparisons could be made, Bob was a nuclear furnace, and he was simply a sulfur match. It was actually a little humbling to think about it in those terms. "I hope it won't come to that."

Logan nodded. "Me too." He jumped off the table, and said, "I'll try and let you know if I can."

"I'll be waiting." He had a sinking feeling this would all be in vain, but it was better to let Logan try and fail
then to deny him and let this eat away at him. He had too many things eating away at him as it was.

But he didn't think he was going to immediately mention this to Scott.

"Do you come out, or do I drag you out?" Eris asked, sounding remarkably bored.

Osiris looked askance at Bob, and sneered, "Why are you making that noise?"

"Gotta entertain myself in some fashion," he replied casually, crossing his arms over his chest. He then went back to humming "Shut Your Fucking Face, Unclefucker", because, for some odd reason, Sy reminded him of it. Bob was pretty sure Sy was no fan of "South Park", though. Or anything, actually - Sy was not the type to like anything, just abhor things with greater or lesser intensity. And he knew that, right now, he was at the top of his shit list. Good.

Phobby finally crawled out of the deep hole in the wall, and clear fluid was pouring from his slightly dislocated jaw. If you didn't know any better, you might think he was drooling like a Great Dane with rabies, but in fact that was blood - a lot of these Highers had clear fluid that sort of worked in lieu of blood. He made several painful noises as he did so, as his Aunt - even though it just looked like she put him through the wall - had hurt him very badly. The fact that he was family wasn't going to spare him from her wrath; in fact, it probably made it worse, because while Ares and Eris were usually as close as twins, she loathed his children, and the feeling was generally mutual. But while they were all bosom buddies, they couldn't come out and be outright nasty to each other. Of course now, the gloves were off, and Phobby was probably going to end up a stain on the bottom of Eris's shoe. Bob was trying to muster up some sympathy, but after what he had done to Shen Yi, it just wasn't happening.

He crawled out on the table and sat back on his haunches, his silver and gold embroidered robe ( how fey and so like his dad ) now stained dark with his water like blood. "I'm not going to tell you - "

"Yes you are," Eris said.

Phobby made a high pitched squeal and grabbed his head, but even through the pain, he shouted, "I don't know where he is! He went away and just said he'd be back!"

Eris glanced at him, and Bob said, "You know he's telling the truth."

"When is he coming back?" Sy demanded.

He was not inclined to answer him, but since Sy seemed to be Eris's toady, Phobos wasn't so damaged he hadn't figured out it was talk now or suffer through a feeling not unlike a red hot nail gun being fired up his ass. "I'm not sure - he didn't tell me that either. I was just supposed to hold things down for him until his return."

Eris glanced at him again. His prison within a liar demon had given him expert status in figuring out when anyone - Higher to Human - was lying. He was Bob, King of Bullshit, and it was so fucking funny it was unbelievable. "True again. He's not so stupid he's gonna lie to you, darlin'. He knows you could have his guts for garters with a snap of your fingers."

Eris frowned at Phobos, and Bob did feel a little sorry for the sad sack of shit now. She wasn't really mad at Phobos more than she was mad at his dad - but Phobby was going to pay either way. "And Ares wasn't so stupid that he was going to stick around for this."

Sy cocked his head at her in a distressingly bird like manner. "You think he was tipped off?"

Eris made a very tiny noise of disdain. "He has no gift for foresight. Of course he was warned."

"Where's Kumiho?" Bob asked Phobby.

All of them - Phobos, Sy, and Eris alike - openly stared at him. Well, again, it was assumed on Phobby's part. "You didn't know?" Bob asked innocently, happy to have dropped this little info bomb on them.

"That little bitch," Sy hissed, with such venom Bob wondered how well he had known her.

"The trickster is with him?" Eris asked, shifting her gaze to Phobos. "Is this true?"

Phobos looked ( so to speak ) up, and snarled, blood oozing from his distended jaw, "They'll need a sacrifice to end this, Bob, and it will be you - you're not of us. You're an exile, and you're expendable."

Bob gave him a humorless, predatory smile. He hadn't told him anything he didn't already know. "Maybe so, but I'm not the guy who's about to get his ass vaporized."

Phobby looked ( theoretically ) at his Aunt, and Bob knew, if he had bothered to manifest eyes, they'd have bulged out of their sockets. "No, I can help you, I - "

"I don't work with traitors," Eris said blandly, and with the merest twitch of her eyebrow, Phobos violently disincorporated.