Grass tickles my neck as I lie flat on my stomach, binoculars pressed so hard against my face they'll probably leave marks on my eye. The Chinese prison in the valley below looks like some massive concrete tumor growing out of the earth. From our vantage point on this mountainside, the guard towers look like matchsticks, the razor wire like silver dental floss.
"See anything yet?" Mystique asks beside me.
"Nope. Just the same guards walking the same patterns they've been walking for the last two hours." I lower the binoculars and rub my eyes.
Mystique adjusts her position slightly, the crimson of her skin a startling contrast against the dull greens and browns of our surroundings. She's still rocking the red look from this morning, which is both flattering and distracting when I should be focused on the mission. Her yellow eyes remain fixed on the scope of her high-tech rifle. Which is apparently loaded with the tracker we're planning to attach to whatever vehicle eventually shows up for our star-headed mutant.
"You're sure you know how to use that thing?" I ask, nodding toward the rifle.
She gives me a look that makes me feel like I just asked if she knows how to breathe. "I've been shooting these since before your grandmother was born."
"Right. Stupid question."
I'm still not entirely sure why she specifically requested I stay with her while Magik, Kitty, and Firestar cover the other potential exit routes from the prison. Something about needing immediate medical attention if things go sideways. I guess that makes sense, my healing powers would be useful if she gets injured, but there's something about the way she said it that felt like an excuse.
"You've been watching me more than the prison," Mystique says, her voice low and teasing. She doesn't take her eye from the scope, but her lips curl into a knowing smirk. "Like what you see, or just checking if I'll turn blue again?"
"Just making sure you don't miss our target," I lie, turning the binoculars back toward the prison.
"Mmm," she purrs, still focused on her scope. "I never miss my target. Though I have to say, last night I guess I was the target for once."
I nearly drop the binoculars. "Are we really doing this right now?"
"What? Just passing the time during surveillance. Unless you'd prefer we discuss the weather?"
"The weather's fine," I mutter, trying to focus on the prison gates again.
"It certainly got hot in your room last night," she continues, her voice like velvet. "I particularly enjoyed when you asked me to…"
"Okay, I get it," I cut her off, my face burning now. "Can we focus on the mission?"
"I am focused," she says, her finger still poised near the trigger. "I can multitask. One of my many talents. You experienced several others yesterday, if I recall."
I roll my eyes and try to focus on the prison again.
"So what's your deal with Emma Frost anyway?" Mystique asks suddenly, as if reading my mind. Her yellow eyes flick briefly from the scope to my face, studying me with that predatory interest she never quite turns off.
I shift uncomfortably on the grass. "She's a good friend."
Mystique lets out a soft laugh, almost a purr. "A 'good friend'? Please. Emma Frost doesn't have friends. So... does the ice queen want a relationship with you?"
"Should we really be talking about this?" I gesture toward the prison with my binoculars. "You know, mission and all?"
She shrugs one red shoulder. "Why not? You said you wanted friends, right? I'll be your friend."
"I thought you said you didn't want friends," I counter.
Mystique's eyes meet mine, something unreadable flickering in their depths. "That was before last night."
"Emma told me I couldn't sleep with her unless I gave myself completely to her," I admit finally, the words feeling strange to say out loud. "That made me nervous. I wasn't ready to make a jump like that." I swallow, surprised by my own honesty. "Not when I'm just getting my feet on the ground and finding a place where I finally feel safe."
Mystique's eyes narrow, her lips tightening into a dangerous smile. "Good thing I don't want that with you, isn't it?"
Something in her tone makes the hairs on my neck stand up. There's an edge to her words that wasn't there a second ago.
"Yeah."
"You know, if Emma was watching you the other day through Cerebro, she's probably watching during all her free time."
The thought makes my stomach twist. "Then she'd see me scrolling through my phone a lot," I joke, trying to lighten the mood.
Mystique's crimson finger strokes the barrel of her rifle almost lovingly. "I bet she was even watching last night."
"I hope not," I mutter. "That would be so awkward."
"It would make Emma a cuck, wouldn't it?" Mystique purrs.
"Don't talk about her like that," I snap, surprising myself with the heat in my voice.
Mystique's yellow eyes widen slightly, her lips parting in what looks like genuine surprise. "Relax, Jack," she says, her voice softening. "I'm just joking. Besides, if Emma really cares about you, she'd want you to be happy, wouldn't she?"
I open my mouth to respond when our comms suddenly crackle to life.
"Truck spotted coming through the west tunnel. Heat signatures match what we're looking for." Magic's voice cuts through the static, all business.
Mystique's entire demeanor transforms in an instant. The playful seductress vanishes, replaced by the deadly professional I first met in Genosha. She presses her eye back to the scope, body going completely still except for the slow, controlled rhythm of her breathing.
"Roger," she responds, her finger sliding to the trigger with practiced precision.
I hold my breath, watching through my binoculars as a large black truck emerges from the tunnel she mentioned.
The seconds stretch like taffy as Mystique tracks the vehicle through her scope. Then, with one smooth motion, she squeezes the trigger. The rifle makes barely a whisper, some kind of advanced suppressor making it nearly silent.
"Got it," she reports calmly, already disassembling the weapon with quick, efficient movements. The tracker must have found its mark.
"Thank god," Magik's voice comes through the comms again, relief evident even through the static. "Let's get the fuck out of here."
*****
[Emma's POV]
The rage hits me like a tsunami the moment those words pierce through Cerebro's mental connection.
"It would make Emma a cuck, wouldn't it?"
That now red-skinned thief's voice rings in my head, clear as crystal despite the miles between us. I rip the Cerebro helmet off my head so violently that several delicate sensors snap, the advanced technology protesting with a shower of sparks.
"How DARE she!" I snarl, my voice echoing off the metal walls of the chamber as I storm toward the exit.
The pristine corridor of the subbasement blurs past me, my heels striking the floor with thunderous precision. My mind is a hurricane of fury, images of Jack with that shapeshifting trollop replaying in technicolor detail thanks to Cerebro's enhancement of my already formidable telepathic abilities.
"I am NOT a fucking CUCK!" I scream, my fist connecting with the metal wall panel before I can stop myself.
The impact reverberates through the corridor, but strangely, I feel no pain. The wall, however, caves inward like it's made of aluminum foil rather than reinforced steel. I freeze, staring at the perfect fist-shaped dent in absolute shock.
"What the bloody hell?" I whisper, looking down at my hand.
My breath catches in my throat. My skin has transformed completely, no longer soft flesh but pure, flawless diamond. The light from the corridor fixtures refracts through my crystalline form, casting prismatic rainbows across the walls. I raise my other hand, finding it similarly transformed. Perfect, nearly transparent diamond extending all the way up my arms.
"What the fuck?" I mutter, examining my crystal hands with a mixture of horror and fascination. I've been a telepath all my life, but this... this is something entirely new.
Heavy footsteps approach from around the corner, and Harriet McCoy appears, a stack of files clutched in her oversized blue paws. She stops dead when she sees me, golden eyes widening behind her glasses, the files slipping from her grasp to scatter across the floor.
"Emma?" she gasps, adjusting her glasses as if she doesn't trust her eyes. "Are you... a diamond?"
I look up at her, my mind still reeling from the overwhelming rage. My diamond lips part, but for once in my life, I'm at a loss for words.
"I need a fucking minute!"