xp_logs | This Old Mansion

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"Mary mother of christ..." Cain Marko drew his hand across his eyes as Tabitha Smith
flounced towards the van. Her incessant bubblegum chewing was accentuated by the
knee-high white socks, tan shirt, and khaki cargo shorts, as well as the binoculars
hanging around her neck and the whistle she was currently twirling around her
finger.

"One tour guide for the Salem Center Nature Trail and Hardware Store Tour, as
requested." Tabitha gave an exaggerated Boy Scout salute and swung herself into the
driver's seat of the van, only to be unceremoniously lifted out by the back of her
collar and deposited in the back seat.

Cain glanced over at Jake Gavin, who shrugged and jingled the car keys. Squeezing
himself into the front passenger seat, Cain rolled his eyes and asked himself for
the tenth time since last week why he agreed to this. "Right, let's get to the
hardware store, Miss Gavin."

"MISTER," Jake hissed between clenched teeth, starting the van with a swift turn of
the key. "Hell, just call me Jake."

"Miss Jake, fine." Cain hid a smile as Tabitha hooted with laughter in the backseat.
"Eleven-oh-five Elm, pickup area's in the back. What's the quickest way there?"

Tabitha wriggled her way between the front seats. "Depends. We taking the scenic
route, or the oh-so-boring DMV-approved route?"

"Look, giggles," Cain growled, "you can walk back to the mansion and we can find the
damn place ourselves. Or you can help out. Your call."

Tabitha sat back in her seat, folding her arms across her chest and giving a mock
pout. "Left at the second stoplight once we hit town." Then, under her breath, she
muttered "Great, the one chance I get to go shopping all week and I get chaperoned
by Satan's hall monitor."

Thursday afternoon:

Cain leaned back against the bole of an oak tree as he watched his "crew" go to
work. Lorna had struggled at first with bending the aluminum sheets into the proper
shape for rain gutters, making them wider than the previous ones and layering them
under the eaves of the roof. She'd complained about the difficulty briefly, mumbling
about Cain picking something "a little more ferrous" next time.

She'd done well, though. For all her bluster, Tabitha had also been remarkably
useful for removing the old, damaged gutters with the smallest time bombs she could
manage. While Jake, dressed as non-provocatively as possible in a purple snow suit,
brought drinks to the workers, Jaime and his team of duplicates formed a chain gang,
carrying the storm windows from the carts to the mansion.

Cain had to admit to himself, these kids worked well together. The girl with the
streaked hair (Marie? Shit, he was going to have to match names to faces, wasn't
he?) would fly up and hold a window in place while Lorna would magnetically whip the
bolts into position and tighten them down. On the lower floors, Piotr would balance
a stack of windows in one arm, while Alex worked the bolts into place by hand.

When the work was done, Cain appraised the work and nodded to himself. That Madrox
kid knew his way around a hammer, and the others didn't shy away from hard work.
Even the gender-bent Jake did his part, with only the occasional complaint about a
splinter.

As the half-dozen Jamies began wheeling the empty carts back into the sheds, Cain
turned to Piotr, who was gulping down a large glass of iced tea. "Not bad work,"
Marko proclaimed. "Chuck ought to start hiring you guys out as teamsters."

"Shto? Teamsters?" Piotr's brow furrowed. "I do not think I am familiar with
this word." Cain waved dismissively.

"You know, truck drivers, piano movers, usually run by the Mob..." He paused as
Piotr's face suddenly clenched up briefly. Before Cain could react, Marie stepped in
between the two of them.

"So," she asked, pushing her white forelock off of her forehead, "what's your
background, Mister Marko?" She crossed her arms, leather work gloves flexing over
her biceps. Cain snorted derisively.

"None of your business."

"Well, I disagree." Marie stood her ground, looking Cain in the eyes. "You don't
know half the shit we've gone through at this school - I want to know why we should
trust you teaching us."

Cain laughed out loud, walking over to the pile of scrap metal that Lorna had pulled
together. "Teaching you? Shit, that's the last thing I'm here to do. Your Professor
and I go back a ways, that's all you need to know."

"Not good enough."

"Excuse me?" Cain turned around to see Marie right behind him, not giving an inch.

"You come into our house, no one knows a damn thing about you - and we're just
supposed to accept that we should trust you because the Professor does?"

"Good enough for me." Jamie chipped in, pulling his last dupe to himself and merging
together. "I mean, it's not like we're checking resumes here. Come on, Em, the
Professor vouches for him."

Rogue arched an eyebrow at Jamie and reached into the scrap pile, picking up a
length of aluminum and folding it over itself repeatedly as she spoke. "The
Professor vouched for Essex as well, and look what came from trusting him."

Jamie recoiled as if slapped, then hunched his shoulders and walked over to where
Tabitha and Alex were talking. Cain narrowed his eyes down at Rogue, who squeezed,
compressing the length of aluminum into a soccer ball-sized lump and tossed it over
her shoulder. "We protect our own, Mister Marko."

Cain snorted, looking Marie over from head to toe. The hacked-short hair, the scars,
the defiant look in her eyes. One moment she was standing before him, and the next
he was looking down into the eyes of a Vietnamese refugee watching her hut in Dien
Tho burn to the ground. Marko shook his head, clearing away the vivid memory.
Kneeling down, he plunged his hands into the pile of scrap and grunted.

"You got balls, girl. I respect that." Cain flexed his arms, making the scrap metal
creak and bend under his grip. He kept pulling and twisting as he spoke to the young
woman who stood up to him. "You don't know a damn thing about me - and frankly, I
couldn't give a crap. I ain't your teacher, I ain't your daddy, and I sure as hell
ain't the Professor."

Effortlessly, Cain stepped back, raising the mass of metal above his head without
changing his expression. "I got a job to do, girl. You don't disrespect me or this
house, and we got no problem. Far as I'm concerned, that's all we need to know."
Lowering his arms, Cain held a wrapped knot of metal, fused and welded together with
the incredible pressure of his superhuman strength. With a grin, he tossed it
underhand to Rogue, who caught it with both arms, dropping to one knee.

Cain smiled as Rogue struggled to her feet, hoisting the ball of metal up to chest
height and tossing it to the side. The two stood looking eye to eye, until Rogue
raised her arm and wiped a sheen of sweat from her eyes. Cain nodded, then jerked
his head to the others standing by the corner of the house.

"You do good work," he said, walking towards the house.

"Hey!" Rogue's voice reached Cain's ears from halfway across the lawn and gave him
pause. "What kind of a name is Cain anyway? You got a brother named Abel somewhere?"

Marko clenched his fists and just kept walking, leaving the students to stare after
him.