THREE x ONE

“Yes… indeed they are. Alcohol, music… and either company, or a place to drown sorrows.” 

Erik had never seen the Frost Sisters apart from each other before, and it surprised him to catch just one of them standing around. She seemed – distressed, and he wondered – “Did something happen? I must confess; this is the first time I’ve seen one of you without the other two close behind.”

Had they quarrelled? He knew that they shared a bond - one so close that it was described as a hive mind, but he couldn’t imagine exactly what that meant. But clearly they had minds of their own - though again, he hadn’t really given thought to whether they preferred to be together or apart.

He ordered a scotch on the rocks for himself, glad that Genosha still had some of its alcohol supplies, and regarded her thoughtfully over the rim. “Forgive me for asking - but which one are you?” 

“and which are you here for?” she mused. they hadn’t had much casual conversation before, business was what it was and the cuckoos knew how to remain useful.

another thought that made her gaze shift elsewhere for a moment, a deep breath filling her lungs and she was grateful that the bartender handed her the martini, giving her an extra moment to contemplate her answer as she took a sip. “it doesn’t happen often. our powers are strongest when we’re together, but since we aren’t in an immediate life threatening situation – i think an hour or two on our own won’t hurt anything.”

she left out that her sister’s weren’t thrilled about her alone time, they didn’t like moments where their power faded beyond what they were used to, one of the last time resulted in their capture by the government. a smile tugged at her lips as he questioned which she was – not everyone cared.

“i’m esme.” she answered, bringing her glass to her lips for another drink before continuing. “one of the points of us is that you aren’t supposed to be able to tell us apart, so no harm in asking. phoebe says it doesn’t really matter anyway, we’re sort of a three-in-one.”

Using alcohol as a coping mechanism was something Marcos tried to stay away. As a kid, he hated seeing his father in his drunken state. But in desperate times to numb the pain, it was something he turned to. When his father still rejected him even with his dying breath. When he missed Dawn’s birth. When Lorna took his daughter away then disappeared with half of the world. Alcohol had become his best friend during the disappearance. 

And now? His nightmare still lingered in the back of his head, the uneasy feeling that in a quick instance, he would lose Dawn and it would be all his fault. Watching and being unable to do anything about it. 

It surprised him to see one of the Frosts alone slide into the seat next to him to order a martini, his lips taking a drag of the whiskey in his glass. His thoughts battled, trying to figure out if he should just pay for his drinks and walk away or stay, drink, and engage in a conversation with her. 

He took another swig of his drink before letting out a soft sigh in response to her comment. “I never actually pictured you to even step into a place like this. I would have thought you had your own liquor cabinet with a personal bartender at home.”

esme had to admit, she hadn’t exactly noticed marcos’ presence before he spoke. her attention was more focused on getting her drink and not touching anything disgusting. the chances that she would have sat next to him with that knowledge was slim. after all, anyone else that laid a hand on her – that scarred her – would have been telepathed in front of a train. the situation was complicated, though, and esme had to doubt if that was even her thought or phoebe’s.

as the bartender returned with her martini, esme took the glass and brought it to her lips – she needed a long sip before turning to address him. there was a certain level of biting her tongue that she had to do to proceed with the conversation. “we haven’t been on the island very long, there’s still time for that.” she pointed out with a shrug.

she wanted to tell him that he seemed to make a lot of assumptions, particularly about her and her sisters. but what good would that do? in his mind she was just the villain in his tragic story. “this may come as a shock to you, but sometimes when you share a mind with two others, a little alone time is a good thing. don’t worry, i didn’t intend to interrupt your sorrow drinking.”

Gus slid down the sleeves of his jacket to hide the tattoo he was once tracing. The voice wasn’t a familiar one but at the very least, there was a tinge of kindness in her tone. He wasn’t one to trust quickly, especially not after being brainwashed into going against everything he once stood for. Yet, there was an itching feeling in the back of his head that told him to be trusting. To simply do as told. Because despite being away from the scientists that experimented on him, the damage had been done. And Gus was not right in the head.

“That’s the scary part. I don’t know if I would.” He sighed. He didn’t know how much liberty he had over his own body anymore. If maybe there was a switch in his mind, waiting to be turned on for the right moment to be attacked by anti-mutant activists. He didn’t know if he would.

He turned around to face the stranger, forcing a small smile to curve onto his lips. “Yeah.” He nodded. “My friends call me Gus.” Friends? Did he even have anymore friends other than Lorna and Marcos? No. He didn’t. God, did he need to start getting out more.

“Great.” He slapped a mosquito off the back of his neck. “Is there a mutant around here that can repel bugs?” Gus was not a fan of the weather.

there was effort on her part, not to slip into his mind and find what he wanted to hear, a quick solution to identify with someone and garner their trust. yet, as much as her natural habits told her to, she didn’t. instead, esme pressed her lips together, attempting to find the words of her own. 

“well you aren’t being controlled right now, are you?” that may not have been high reassurance, but this wasn’t particularly her area of expertise. she let out a small hum, considering a possibility before speaking. “i’m a telepath, along with my sisters. i know that freaks people out so i’d get not wanting to let someone in your head but – i could look in and see if there’s anything lingering there from what they did?” the offer was honest, though with the intention that he’d be a better ally than an enemy.

“oh – i should’ve explained before. i’m a friend of lorna’s, i spent a little bit of time with the underground around the time they tried to have another hound sneak in so i’m a little familiar with the situation.” she explained, none of it was really a lie - though she did leave out details. marcos’ dislike of her was evident on her arm, but she wasn’t about to point it out.

“as for the bugs, not that i know of. but there are supplies being offered and i’m pretty sure bug repellent is high on the light.”

there is no i, esme,                         there’s only we.                                             you’re nothing.

it wasn’t her sisters fault. they were stuck in that place too, and perhaps they were just better weapons than she was. esme still loved them. they were her sisters, they were all she really had in this world. and they didn’t abandon her in that forsaken jungle when she’d been poisoned, that had to count for something.

she needed distance from them to separate her thoughts from theirs. it didn’t come as a surprise to her that it hadn’t taken long for someone to establish a bar on genosha, as she slid into a seat, esme ordered herself a martini and leaned away from the bar, careful not to touch the surface. it’s sticky.

“i guess bars are the same no matter what part of the planet you’re stuck on.”

“What the fuck?” Rocket screeched.

One moment he’d been sleeping, the Milano on course back towards Earth, and the next moment –

He was here, and he was..

a fucking humie.

Standing, he promptly smashed his head against an overhanging beam and stumbled blindly around before he managed to find his balance. That was when he realised that he was also naked. And that, since he didn’t have fur… “Huh,” he said, checking out his anatomy, before shrugging. He still had all his gear, and a spare pair of Quill’s pants that he had been using as a bedsheet, so he pulled those on. “Hey!” he yelled out at the nearest person. “Any idea where the hell this is?”

three heads turned in unison at the brash sound of someone calling out, brows knitting in a look of confusion in sync as blue eyes looked him over. “this is genosha, and you should consider yourself lucky to be here.” sophie spoke up first, voice just a tone sharper than her sisters. yet the clones had the same idea, as they usually did. they tried to search out more information, eyes emitting a telling glow as they tried to push further, only to find they couldn’t and the glow faded.

“you aren’t normal.”

they spoke together. it was similar to an animal to them, they could sense vague emotion, maybe intentions if they pushed – but his mind wasn’t that of typical human and caused their inability to proceed.

“who are you? and you need.. clothes.”

“does he though?”

after attending to wanda and ensuring she was stable - even going so far as to have a private conversation with her within the astral realm, the sorcerer had found a strong bond with her. but it had come at a price, not his friendship with her, no that was always a key something that he loved to have with his fellow magic-user, but the amount of magic he’d expended over the last week.

wong would have known how bad it was getting for stephen, he’d used his own energy fields, something that most sorcerers under the craft of the mystic arts knew not to do - it would kill them if they used too much, and yet….

sighing, he sat at the steps of the capital building, leaning against them and enjoying the peace and quiet that had been afforded to him. closing his eyes, he sensed the approach of someone near by, raising his brow he continued to wait patiently for a response or a verbal approach before finally speaking; “yes? what is it?”

the girls found themselves troubled by idle hands. the initial prospect of everyone’s arrival on genosha felt as though it could be a good thing – their job recruiting was over. yet, they were quick to realize they didn’t know what to do now. down time wasn’t something they’d come across often in their lives.

three sets of heels clicked in unison as the sisters started up the stairs of the palace, only stopping short at the sight of the sorcerer.  two sets of blue eyes narrowed at their sister, hesitation pulling at their hive mind. “let’s go, esme.” she could feel sophie and phoebe’s push, prompting her to turn on her heel to them – eyes flashing a glow of blue as she projected a thought at her sisters, and garnering a look from phoebe that could only be described as offended.

“you two go ahead, he doesn’t need all three of us talking at him. it comes off needy.” by him, she referenced erik. their objective at the moment was... well, to find an objective. something that needed to be done. surely someone on this damn island needed controlling. as the other two went inside, esme eyed the evidently annoyed man. she offered a quiet hum of response before shrugging off her fitted jacket – despite the warm weather here, her sisters still insisted they wore it. what was the point of clones if everyone could pick one out over a scar? esme didn’t care as much about it when the others weren’t around. “i hope you don’t mind if i sit.” she offered, setting her jacket down on the same stair level but a respectable space between them before sitting on it. “we didn’t get an opportunity to talk before when we were stuck in that jungle. i’m esme.”

Trained eyes watched as the animals in the park’s pond picked at the surface of the water, small ripples appearing in the water and disrupting his reflection. It was soothing simply watching the repeating pattern appear then disappear. But it was hard to even recognize the man he had become. He was no longer a soldier for the US military. He was no longer a victim to the mutant relocation center. He was no longer a weapon created for Sentinel Services to aid mutant captures.

He was Augustus. Pulse. Someone he hadn’t been in such a long time. But it had been so long that it was hard to remember what that life was like.

His fingers traced the Hound tattoo forced onto his wrist, a small tinge of fear lingering in the back of his mind that they would find him– that they would take everyone he cared about and turn them into a weapon like they did him. It was crazy to even think that he was actually living his worst nightmare not too long ago.

Hearing footsteps approach, he didn’t turn to them but began to speak. “I can do a lot of damage here.” He admitted without any particular reason. “I can nullify most of the mutants here with the mere flicker of my eyes, leaving the island defenseless against an attack.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be here.”

The sound of only one pair of heels clicking along the parks path could be heard. Esme didn’t get many opportunities to be on her own, but her sisters were replenishing their wardrobe now that they were trapped here on Genosha. Of course, the islands naturally warm climate made the longer sleeves to cover her scar uncomfortable – but it bothered her sisters more than it bothered her. Opting for comfort and earning the judging gaze of Sophie and Phoebe, Esme went for the shorter sleeves.

It helped that her sisters weren’t there – the farther the distance between them, the more she could decipher her own thoughts from theirs. She gave a quiet hum as she spotted someone in the distance. Esme had done enough snooping into other’s minds to know he was from the mutant underground, made part of the hound program by the same scientist that had captured her sisters – leading to her manipulation of the underground in the first place. Her brow quirked at his words and she stepped forward.

“I don’t think the question is if you could, but if you would.” She offered, empathy wasn’t her strong suit – despite it actually being connected to her telepathy. But she did know enough about social cues. “There are a lot of powerful people here that could cause a lot of damage. Pulse, right? I’m Esme.”

Her heels were sinking into the grass and she changed her footing uncomfortably. “Besides, it’s not really a choice now. We’re all stuck here.”

“There is no I, only We.”

Two voices narrowed in on one, the one that had been trying to fight back. A struggle for individuality, to make her own choices – to love her sisters but not be her sisters. It didn’t matter though, that isn’t why they were made.

“You don’t matter. You’re nothing, you’re replaceable.”

The room was large with bright medical lighting, walls and floor white and sterile – cold. It was the first thing they ever knew. But now they looked through a glass window into another room, where there were a thousand just like them – more clones, waiting in tubes. Replaceable. Did any of them mean anything when more could be created? Were they even real? Or were they just the weapons they were made to be?

You have a job to do.

They knew that voice. The scientist that controlled them when they were children, fresh out of the test tubes they were made in. Do what he says or the consequences – they could see Celeste and Mindee, watching them from across the room. They were still the children they died as, eyes sunken and a lifelessness to them. Yet, they could feel the blame coming from their deceased sisters, dead because they didn’t follow orders.

Their gaze moved in unison to their target, a sorcerer. A master of the mystic arts. They didn’t care much as they pushed on to invade his mind.

“What secrets do you have to hide?”

Emma Frost should have known better than to confront the girls on her own, but to be fair, she had thought maybe the three of them would welcome her. And clearly addressing one of them had been wrong. But she hadn’t known the whole three-in-one thing.

The conversation felt like an eternity ago as she let them skim through her mind. She let them see the girl who left her family to become a teacher. Let them see the young telepath who used her powers to do well in her art class. Let them see one of the girls pull her dress down to reveal her bra at a school dance she shouldn’t have been at. She let them see the Hellfire Club. Let them see Selene drop a building on her and the kids she had sworn to protect. Let them see her holding the body of one of her students in her arms, not even realizing they were dead until the X-men found her. Let them see the X-men pull her out of the rubble. Let them feel her pain- if they could. Let them see her teaching at Xavier’s. But everything seemed to stop when they reached images of Scott Summers- that one kid with uncontrolable powers who destroyed Charles’ favorite tree. A kid she had taken under her wing, bonded with. Treated him as if he were her own. Understood. A kid she was enraged to find out had been taken, but had kept her cool under the pressure before the rescue.

Was that jealousy in their tone?

She barely had time to react as the girls assaulted her mind with their own memories. Emma let out a screech of pain and crumpled to the ground, holding her head in her hands as the images flooded her mind. Images, feelings. There were five of them- in a facility. She felt the death of their sisters- and pain- saw Sophie and Phoebe captured, saw Esme manipulate the Underground, saw them murder Sentinel Services agents and enjoy it- that was when she inadvertedly activated her diamond form, ending the telepathic onslaught.

Emma struggled to her feet, not really needing to do much breathing in this form, but breathing heavily nonetheless. She knew what she wanted to feel- but in this form it was always hard to get feelings across, and shifting back meant they could possibly attack her again. “Congratulations, you girls just took down an omega level telepath. You should be proud of yourselves.” She knew she was. Like her, their pain made them stronger. It wasn’t a weakness.

She crossed her arms. “I never came to ask you to slum it with the X-men, darlings. It’s Charles who does the motivational speeches. I merely wanted to talk, we’re family after all, even if you aren’t mine by birth.” That would have had more emotion to it if she weren’t currently diamond, but she could only hope the words would hold the same weight without any of the emotion there. She didn’t know what to say, but knew they wouldn’t want her pity. She wouldn’t. She didn’t pity them. Didn’t see them as weak. “But I suppose we’ve done talking, haven’t we? Unless there’s anything you three want to know.”

They could tell the parts of her mind she’d wanted them to touch in some ploy to garner their trust, and they didn’t appreciate it. It felt as though it were a grab for sympathy, and they had every intention of proving why it wouldn’t work. The clones knew what they were doing, they had been working on combining their powers and offensively since the day they were made. It wasn’t as though the girl’s had planned it though – the plan to invade her mind was sudden but unanimous. There was little they couldn’t accomplish when they put their minds together, literally.

“Did you really think that showing us how good of a Mommy you can be would win us over?” Their eyes narrowed behind the blue glow. “Frankly, we don’t give a damn about Scott Summers, or any other adults you think should be adopted like children.” “It’s sloppy–” “–and weak.” They were being harsh, but as they deemed necessary. They weren’t there for her divided attention and they’d fought this hard for their independence, they wouldn’t fall to needing someone whose priorities were elsewhere.

They were pushed out as she took diamond form – a state they were curious of, if they were being honest. They remember scientists poking and prodding at them to see if they were capable of such a state as well, but they didn’t understand why then. There was a collective eye roll. “What’s with everyone’s fascination on levels?” “If you’re an omega, what do you think that makes us?” They asked pointedly. Of course, there were rules to that. They were only at their strongest together.

“We are family.” The girls shared a look to show they meant the three of them. “We don’t know you, and touching a few sad life moments doesn’t mean you suddenly know everything about someone. People are more than their pasts.” Esme pointed out. This wasn’t exactly how she’d intended things to go, but it had escalated too quickly. They knew where she was now, if they chose to seek her out in the future. “But you’re right, I think we’re done here for today.”

“when i formed the x-men, it was in the face of… derision and hatred.”

charles was in genosha, with what remained of those who were on their side. x-men. mutants. avengers. humans. everyone mistreated, everyone who fought for them. they were looking to him, now, waiting for him to speak the way he was known to do. it took him longer than normal. there was a great weight on his chest, and when he first opened his mouth, he closed it, unsure of himself. but they still looked at him. to him. he pushed on.

“they were sworn, out with the intent of killing each other. they put aside their differences in their shared disgust and fear of us. i said then that there was a way to peace, and peace cannot be won through violence.”

charles paused, pressing his lips together. there were some who wouldn’t like this.

“i believe that still.

“the ache for revenge is tempting, i know. i know because i feel it, too. but we can’t become the people they think we are. we are mutants, and proudly so. but we are also people. we aren’t monsters. we never have been.”

charles nodded, reassuring them but reassuring himself at the same time. reassuring himself that his methods were clear, that they were effective. that it wasn’t because of his belief in peace between humans and non-humans.

“we can’t be what they make us.

“right now, more than anything, we need each other. to help each other. to heal. there are mutants and other powered people out there who are still in danger. we can’t abandon and forget them in our rage.”

he sighed and shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. he needed cerebro. if he could’ve made his way into cerebro, he could’ve located the ones lost and in need. guilt continued to weigh on him, but he lifted his head and opened his eyes.

“we can’t lose hope. we are hope. hold onto it. hold on to each other. we won’t let this be how our story ends.”

They waited in impatient stances as he spoke, lecturing on about hope and peace – as if they were truly achievable goals. Despite others preconceived notions regarding the three blondes, the truth was that they did want a place that was safe for mutants – but they didn’t believe letting humans slaughter them and pray that they’d be remorseful and learn goodness was the way it was going to happen. No, they’d have the world it should be, even if they needed to force every last person into it.

That was why they’d sought out Erik, offered to help him with his island promising to be safe for mutants. They trusted his ability to achieve the goals they all sought, but without the time consuming restrictions others were concerned about. 

“How disappointing.” Three voices spoke in unison. They had the decency to wait until his speech was over, approaching only when others began to clear away from the area. “A waste of potential.” Phoebe chimed, arms folded in front of her.

Esme stepped forward, easily the most diplomatic of the three, though Sophie and Phoebe were never ones to hold back their opinions. “With all due respect, they destroyed your school, they murdered children. How do you not see that as an act of war?” Esme’s head tilted, almost in an honest curiosity. There was something about interacting with other telepaths that was intriguing to them – they couldn’t so easily dive into his head and scope out the answers they wanted, just as he would be harder pressed to get inside theirs if he chose. 

“Wars have been waged for far less,” “and soldiers don’t hold back their shot out of fear that someone may call them a monster.” Sophie was more sly, good at getting under your skin without touching your mind.

Peggy watched the man enter the coffee shop, and thought ‘Crikey O’Reilly, the one time I’m not actually looking for trouble’.

Not that that would make a difference, when she later recounted the incident to her over-agitated handler at SHIELD, but she’d like the record to reflect it anyways. She managed to send him a quick text before taking action - Getting in fight at coffee shop? Think it will be fine. See you later.

Peggy couldn’t help but roll her eyes, even as she rose out of her seat to take care of it. Friends of humanity. Christ. People never changed, did they?

As the girls fired back with a command, Peggy’s focus remained on neutralizing the gun, which could cause far more damage than it was worth. She approached the group with measured confidence, offered the girls a cursory smile, and promptly punched the assailant in the temple. She caught hold of his shoulders as he went down, lowering him to the floor to avoid further damage to his head. She then abruptly reached for the gun and unloaded the magazine, tucking the offending object into the pocket of her pants and exhaling a small, resigned sigh. 

“That was rather abrupt, so please excuse the intrusion,” she said, voice edged with caution as she addressed the girls. Though their words had been alarming, it’s not as if she’d have responded peaceably to someone pointing a rifle at her. “I just didn’t think he ought to have this anymore.” Luckily enough, even if the girls were hostile, people seemed to be taking this opportunity to rapidly vacate the shop. 

“I’m sorry you had to put up with this. He deserves to be locked up. And I can promise you he will be, if you let me handle this.”

They hadn’t honestly expected anyone else to intervene, so when the woman stood up and disarmed the man, knocking him out in the process – they were intrigued. The girls tilted their heads in unison as the scene unfolded and they couldn’t determine if they were more annoyed or impressed, a mixed feeling between the three. Finally, Phoebe let out a heavy sigh – she leaned toward the side of annoyance. “It would’ve been more fun to let him walk until his feet bled.”

The other two shrugged, not exactly disagreeing but Phoebe always did have more bite to her words. Esme shot her a look before looking back to the new woman, realizing it may be smart to play nice. They didn’t know her but if someone could be useful, they wanted to know about it.

“Don’t mind my sister, I’m afraid her anger in these situations can get the best of her.” Esme pointed out, only half true. They all didn’t mind shedding the blood of bigots, but Esme knew the importance of allies, even if that meant putting on her sweet voice, an innocent smile tugging at her lips. “We really do appreciate you stepping in like that, these days, no one seems to want to do a thing when they see something terrible.”

The three girls shared a quick look, and the other two knew what she was playing at and they stepped back to retrieve their coffees. “We’ll let you handle him.” Esme agreed with the nod of her head. “I’m Esme, by the way. These are my sisters, Sophie and Phoebe.”

Erik had been staring out through the windows at the view of Manhattan. In the far distance, he almost thought that he could still see smoke rising from the attacks on the school. 

“Retaliation,” he said, without turning. He knew immediately who it was who had entered the room - the perfectly in-sync footsteps and the voices were a dead giveaway. “No one knows, but it would be easy to guess. Any place that is safe for mutants - and perhaps others like the Avengers. Humans.” His voice twisted into a growl as he clenched his fists. “This always happens. Again, and again, and again. Charles will preach cooperation and forgiveness to his dying breath, but this will never be resolved through words.”

He narrowed his eyes. “If you would have peace, prepare for war.”

He’d almost forgotten the presence of the Cuckoos, but their suggestion brought his attention back to him. Half-turning, he regarded them, gesturing in an ‘I’m-listening’ gesture. “Cutting off the head. I suppose that would be the quickest way to end this conflict.” 

He thought for a moment. “We need information. We need to know their plans, what they have up their sleeves. Get it from them - I don’t care how. Then – we should send them a message. Perhaps dying at the hands of their own weapons - turning them on each other - will send them a message.”

There was a slight sense of unease amongst the girls as they listened to the reaction from the man – as much as they saw eye to eye with him, they were well aware of the reputation of his temper. They held a respect for his ability to get done whatever was needed, and a concern for their own well-being should they somehow provoke him.

“No one knows what the next target will be, but we could find out.” “We’ve invaded political campaigns before, it’s not so different.” Their shoulders shrugged. “It would require some finesse, the government knows our face.” Esme pointed out – they were lab created and the other two had been more recently captured before she’d orchestrated their escape. “But it doesn’t have to be our face they see.”

It was the type of idea that would put their own selves at risk, but one they were comfortable with. Knowing that he approved of their methods, and ability to be effective, was enough reassurance. Cutting off the head, as he called it.

“It’s always worked for us.”

A hum came from one of them, a look shared between the three, blue eyes glowing brightly and bouncing between the three. A quick telepathic conversation. Occasionally, they forgot it was better to speak with their mouths. A moment later, they turned back to him. “We’ve heard from around the grapevine that they’re assembling a new Avengers team.” “One to round up the powered people.” “If we could infiltrate that, we may get close enough to the ones in charge.”

Marcos wanted nothing more than to be literally anywhere else other than on the streets with the top and only three people he would most likely not feel any remorse after taking their eyesight. Just their mere presence was keeping him on edge but the moment he catches one of their eyes glow blue, his searing bright hands would be the last thing they would ever see. 

He scoffed and rolled his eyes at the comment on his jacket, finding the comment on his favorite jacket quite unnecessary. He liked it and he was pretty sure it completed his look. But that was besides the point. “If you want, maybe we could go shopping and you can fix my sense of fashion right after we get our manicures done. I want my nails to look good if it’s the last thing you see.” He quipped with snarky attitude. God, he hated them.

An immediate huff escaped his lips at the mention of Dawn. “You don’t have any right wanting anything for my daughter.” He took a step forward, fingers moving jittery in the pockets of his jacket, itching to burn them. The mere idea that one of them could have held his daughter in their arms– held her longer than he ever has because he was not allowed to sickened him to the core.

“What about Erik’s mutant island?” He asked through gritted teeth. “You do minion work for him now?”

The snarky tone wasn’t unexpected, though it did provoke a perfectly in unison eye roll from the three clones. “Still threatening people with the same old tricks, Marcos?” “We thought you could be more creative than that.” Sophie and Phoebe went back and forth through the exchange, eyes narrowed while Esme pressed her lips together and waited for them to wrap it up. “We do find it interesting how quick you are to jump to violence, since you claim to be one of the good guys and all.”

There’s a moment where they have to remember that they didn’t come here to start a fight, but they’d finish one if needed. Still, Esme’s attention flared – she knew that Dawn would be a touchy subject, but it bothered her all the same to be made out as if she were some threat to the child. “Excuse me, but the last I checked I saw her be born.” Maybe not the best approach to make. In the background, Phoebe was already mumbling about traffic being pretty heavy, in case he got any ideas. Esme thought a moment, it was difficult to know what approach to take with people when you couldn’t just look into their minds and get the quick answer. “Would that help? If we shared that memory? It’s not the same as actually being there, but it’s something.”

They really should discuss business, they knew that – regardless of any personal attachments Esme felt to the situation.

“We aren’t minions.” “Your sort-of father in law appreciates our ability to be effective and we appreciate the idea of a place for mutants, away from all the hate and the –” “experiments.” There’s a shared tone of disgust at the notion, the only real tell of their own past. They weren’t here to make the real sales pitch though, nor did they feel they had to. Anyone in their right mind could see the world going to hell. “We’re just offering to do our part.”

“Grey could use a few fashion tips from you girls, couldn’t she?” Emma mused, thinking back to those dreadful sweaters Jean had everyone wearing at the Christmas party. Emma had recieved one as well, but she wouldn’t want to be caught dead in it, and had stuffed it in a drawer she never used, refusing to wear it for even an hour. She would never disgrace herself by wearing something so disasterous. “And dear Charles doesn’t even know you girls exist, ad far as I’m aware.” For now.

She nodded as each of them said their names. Her first reaction when she had seen Esme in Lorna’s head was to find out who the hell got a hold of her DNA or something to clone her. Because she didn’t remember having a kid, let alone three of them. But in the end, she didn’t really care. She needed to meet these girls- her own flesh and blood. “I asumed that- we do look alike, after all, even share a powerset. I saw that from dear little Lorna Dane’s head.” she told them. “I wanted to meet you, since I suppose you are my… daughters?” she raised her brows.

She didn’t want to fight them, or even steer them away from Erik. She was sure the three of them had their reasons, and even Emma herself had been thinking about joining Erik. But she didn’t. She had students who depended on her. And if she wanted the X-men to keep trusting her, she would need to stay on the straight and narrow hero path. And if she wanted the girls to trust her…

As an act of trust, she lowered her telepathic barriers. “I just want to talk to the three girls I didn’t know existed until recently.”

For once, it seemed Emma Frost had no ulterior motives for just talking. She looked directly at Esme as she continued, the sarcastic outer armor falling away. “You seem to be the heart of this little team. And it looks like you have a good head on your shoulders, so I’ll let you read my mind.” she told her, assuming that Sophie and Phoebe would see whatever Esme saw. “You’ll find we have more in common than you think.”

She wasn’t quite sure what she’d let them see. The child who was almost taken in by Charles Xavier? The teenage girl who fell in love with her art teacher? The college girl who was betrayed by a fellow telepath she thought was her friend? The girl who saved her former art teacher from being accused of something he was mind controled to do- only to have him reject her the moment she told him she was a mutant? The White Queen of the Hellfire Club? The woman who lost her students in an explosion? The only survivor found by the X-men? The teacher who took a young X-man with uncontrolable powers under her wing because he reminded her of the kids she lost and she understood what he had been through? Trust meant showing everything, and for some reason, she really wanted these girls to see who she was.

“We don’t do charity work.” The three voices agreed in unison at the prospect of giving style advice to the younger red head. They didn’t know her personally, but they knew enough. The prospect that Xavier may not yet be aware of their existence was of more intrigue though, as they tossed ideas back and forth if it were something that may prove useful in the future. 

There’s an agreed hesitation between the three. They were well aware of whose DNA they were made from, they’d seen their files in the lab before burning them. Yet, they weren’t made, or raised, to make decisions based on emotion – they didn’t even understand what the connection was meant to be. “Daughters imply we were born, we weren’t. But – if the simplification is easiest –” “then that’s fine.” “Although for future reference, we don’t recommend poking around Lorna’s head.” Esme pointed out the last bit, having to keep her hand still from almost rubbing her neck instinctively at the memory.

The other two were offended as the offer was only extended to Esme. “Three minds in one, each one as important as the other.” Sophie was quick to defend, knowing that Phoebe’s choice of words would have been a little more damning. Esme chose not to interrupt, aware of the argument that it would spark. “Besides, that’s not exactly how this works.”

Truthfully, they’d only get material of substance together, and with eyes lighting blue, they took the opportunity while her barriers were down. They skimmed over surfaces, mostly searching for anything of use, intentions and motivations. It was more difficult for them to understand the complexity of certain emotions. Of course they felt, but understanding and processing was something that was never taught to them. Weapons have no use for it. Yet, there was an emotion flared in them, as they saw her with students, taking in a strays, – jealousy. “You want us to see you?” “Trust you?” “Sympathize and find common ground with your pain?” “You could pay us in diamonds and we still wouldn’t slum it with the X-Men.”

“But if you want to know us –”

The girls weren’t letting her in their heads, at least not willingly, and instead projected what they wanted her to see. They pushed the memories of the lab they were created in, the time there  was still five of them and the forced exercises they had to partake in while two would be held back. The day they pushed the guards turn their guns on each other, only to find out too late they couldn’t save Celeste and Mindee. They pushed that the hardest, the feeling of death – and they supposed she could block them out, but they pushed anyway, finding it worth the effort. Phoebe and Sophie being captured and Esme manipulating the Underground to get them back, and murdering over a dozen Sentinel Services officers as they did so by turning their guns and grenades on each other. It was a blood bath but one they were okay with, it was effective. They made men stop breathing, pulled triggers on a room full of people themselves. They knew pain, but they’d be damned if they let it be misconstrued as being weak.