Note: This story can theoretically be read without reading the one that came before it, but you'll understand it much more completely having read the first. If you don't really want to do so, you'll need to know that Brooke, Jesse, and Luke are my own original characters in case you're confused.

Any feedback on this story, or its predecessor, is much appreciated. Enjoy :).

Go ahead, try it. I dare you.

I stared down the barrel of the 10-foot-tall Sentinel robot's machine gun, waiting for it to make its move. I knew it would take its shot; it couldn't resist a sitting target. The remotely human like head swiveled and the glowing pupils contracted, acquiring me as its new target. A slow, self-satisfied smile spread across my face. Come on, buddy, I'm ready for you. The robot's arm shifted, and the impressive gun attached to it clicked into place. I dove to the side, rolling as it unleashed the torrent of bullets. I moved quickly, so that its back was to me, and leaped. The fire of the change coursed through my limbs. Bones rearranged, fur sprouted, muscle grew in slabs underneath my skin. I landed on the back of the robot in the shape of horse sized wolf as black as night. It was a form I had become particularly fond of since I first used to it to take out a group of power hungry vampire elites and one mutant-turned-vampire with an inferiority complex three years ago. Has it really been that long? And to think, I wouldn't have even dreamed of taking a wolf's shape before then. The secret I told few people—that I had killed my own mother, a wolf shapeshifter, at the age of thirteen when I took wolf form during my first change, made me fear and revile wolves for the next seven years. I disemboweled her and watched her die in a pool of her own blood, a slave to the wolf's bloodlust. I can't say I'm over it. I'll never be over it, not if I live two hundred years, which may very well be possible if I'm anything like my father, the one and only Wolverine. He had to be pushing one hundred and thirty by now, and he didn't look a day over thirty five. Ok maybe forty five; all the scowling he did wasn't doing his face any favors.

No one gets over killing their own mother. My experiences in Forks three years ago helped me to forgive myself, at least partially. I didn't have the control over my animal forms that I do now, not by a long shot. It wasn't a justification for what I did, but it made me feel just a smidgeon better about it. The nightmares still came, but only once a month or so now, sometimes less. And thanks to a group of Quileute werewolves I met in Forks (they weren't quite werewolves…more like shapeshifters that turned into giant wolves when it suited them), specifically Lucas, who turned into a snow white wolf that was just as pretty as it was dangerous, I don't fear wolves anymore. The giant wolf shape that I picked up from observing the Quileute wolves was certainly handy, that was for sure. And I was about to kick this robot's metal ass with it.

The weight of my body threw the robot off balance. It teetered, struggling to regain its footing.I bit into the robot's neck like I would a wild deer, not because the tin can had any arteries to speak of, but because a robot without a head usually didn't function ideally. But that was just a hunch. My teeth, several times stronger than your standard wolf, sunk into the steel outer covering. I wrenched my head back and tore at the cables that held the head it place. Sparks flew, and the robot collapsed. The two red lights that served as its eyes dimmed. I jumped off my prey and howled, my adrenaline surging. Too easy.

"Look out!"

The warning came too late. The laser hit me squarely in the left shoulder, singing skin and muscle. Shit. The smell of burning hair filled my nostrils. The wound itched and pulled itself together, regenerating. I whirled toward my attacker, snarling. Another Sentinel charged me, aiming for another shot. Pain lanced through me as a laser from a third Sentinel found its target along my rib cage. Fine, let's try this. I regained my human form and changed again. Overgrown eagle's wings sprouted from my shoulders, and I felt a slight emptiness as my bones became hollow. I took flight, away from the shredded asphalt that, believe or not, was a usable road not ten minutes ago. So I wasn't nearly as graceful or skilled as Angel, nor were my wings quite as pretty. Flight came easier as a full-fledged eagle, when I had the raptors instincts to guide me. Still, this eagle half-form was a pretty good imitation, and he claimed I wouldn't be able to get it right without sprouting a beak. Ha! Take that, Angel.

I heard another laser discharge and swerved in midair. A second shot clipped the edge of my left wing, and I flinched. Fine, maybe I'd have to give Angel some more credit. It was hard keeping these things intact.

"Hey, hon, isn't this my territory?" Above me, the Human Torch levitated, the flames clinging to his shape like a skintight suit. Well, not quite the Human Torch, but pretty close. Johnny Storm wasn't wasn't quite as irritating as his 25-year-old son, Jesse, my tormentor. And boyfriend of three years, unbelievably. It's a long story…not going to get into it.

"Thought I needed a change of scenery, see what it was like to be you," I said. He laughed.

"Please, your clumsy excuse for flight doesn't even compare." He did a quick hairpin loop just for good measure. "Try that with those sails of yours."

"Cute. You can take those aerial acrobatics to the circus with you; it's not gonna take out these bots any quicker. Can you even hit a target from this altitude, or are you just enjoying the view?"

He gave me a wicked smile, his teeth glowing as if lit by an internal fire. "Sounds like a challenge.

"It might be," I quipped.

"Sentinel to the right. If I nail it, you make dinner tonight," he declared. I narrowed my blue-green eyes at him.

"You miss, and you make me dinner. I want the works. Don't forget the candles."

He smirked. "Deal. Watch and learn, Brooke." A ball of fire the size of a bowling ball materialized in his hand. He eyed a Sentinel as it aimed the laser gun at him, and threw the ball like a major league pitcher. It hit the bot straight in the face, melting the head into oblivion. The sentinel switched back to its gun, fired off a few rounds while spinning in a drunken circle, and collapsed. Damn. I was impressed, but I wasn't about to let him know that. His ego was inflated enough as it is. I was about to come up with a snarky comment, until Shadowcat yelled from below.

"Hey, lovebirds, a little help?" Three sentinels were hemming her in. Jesse smirked. I rolled my eyes and went into a nose dive before he had a chance to gloat.

The ruined pavement came up to meet me. I resorbed my wings and shifted into a tiger half form as I hit the ground next to Kitty, claws raised and tail lashing.

"About time. Nice stripes," she said, smiling to show twin fangs, keen and sharp. Even three years later, I was still struggling to get used to seeing Kitty as a vampire. She had been bitten back in Forks and survived the change, though after the battle at the Volturi stronghold she had stayed with our vampire allies, the Cullens, to learn to control her thirst for blood. That couldn't keep her away for long though. A year later she came back, apparently in full control. Some of the X-men still looked at her as if she were going to suck the life force from them in their sleep. I couldn't say I blamed them; my attitude toward vampires used to be no better. Luckily, they never had to see her when her eyes were a hellfire red. As she became accustomed to a diet of animal blood, they had thankfully faded to a deep gold.

Kitty winked and disappeared into thin air, only to rematerialize on top of one of the sentinels. Oh yeah, there was that too. Her change into a vampire had not only enhanced her strength and speed to superhuman levels, but her mutant abilities received a nice upgrade, too. Kitty not only walked through walls now; she also teleported. Needless to say, she was more valuable than ever as a teammate. She tore into the steel covering of the sentinel's back and tore out its circuitry with her bare hands. With a feline growl I went to work on a second sentinel. In my peripheral vision, I saw Colossus and Iceman take out a pair of robots. The last went down in a blaze of glory, Jesse's handiwork for sure.

And then the street, sky, and robots all simultaneously faded into nothingness, replaced by an expansive room with cold steel walls and floor.

"Simulation complete," a female robotic voice stated, echoing in the large chamber.

I relaxed and felt the tiger's fur sink back into my skin and my teeth lose their pointed edges. Perspiration beaded on my forehead and dripped down my back underneath my leather X-suit. I felt alive and energized. Nothing like a good Danger Room session.

As we filed out of the room Jesse grounded himself beside me, the fire dissipating from his body. Unlike me, and everyone else around me, his appearance was not marred by something as banal as sweat. Jesse didn't sweat. Sweating was a cooling mechanism, and seeing as Jesse's body could reach upwards of several thousand degrees, he didn't overheat. Not to mention that perspiration would be about as effective at toning down his body temperature as tossing an ice cube into a nuclear reactor. Jesse's caramel colored eyes, always glinting with a hint of mischief, flicked up and down my body. His scent, a unique blend musk and smoke, pervaded my sensitive nose as he came in close and whispered.

"I think you owe me dinner. Steak would be nice. Don't forget dessert." God, I hated him. But I recognized the lie as soon as I thought it. Who was I kidding? My eyes greedily absorbed every detail of his face and the well-defined muscles of his body. I loved the bastard, cockiness and all.