Westward, Ho! Westchester to Moose Jaw

In the wee hours of the morning, I abandoned my Nissan in the parking lot of Xavier’s School for the Gifted and loaded up the Ford Expedition with my teammate, X-23. Now, I have hung around with some hot chicks in my time, far more than even this godlike alien deserves, but when I saw how that tank top fit snugly to her body I forgot all about…whose bedroom did I float outside of again?

Before I could bring my self to remember whassername, I heard a snickt and ended up with a face full of adamantium.

“Meep!” I whimpered and shot up to the sky, before X-23 could mangle my face and cut short my lucrative reality TV career.

“My eyes are up here,” she snarled. “Now get down here so we can go!”

I sheepishly hit the ground and got in the driver’s side of the Expedition. We rode in silence for awhile until I turned on the radio. I soon forgot that I had been paired with a surly hottie and lost myself in catchy pop.

“La~la~la, la~la~la~la-la. La~la~la, la~la~la~la-la. Can’t get you outta my head; boy, your lovin’s all I think abou—.” Snickt. Spark-spark. Soon smoke filled the SUV, and as I rolled my window down, I looked to the side and saw that X-23 stabbed the radio with her claws. She glared at me, and I lapsed back into silence as we continued on towards Moose Jaw.

After a day or so of driving, a seventy-degree decrease in temperature, and an ice storm, we pulled into town. X-23 and I were no better friends than we were before, but at least we had a plan of action: seek the tribal elder and take the vision quest. We pulled on our coats and headed for the roadside diner outside Moose Jaw, which was where we were told tribal business usually took place, and where we would meet the elder.

The diner was empty except for a few waitresses and a young woman sitting at the counter, leafing through a book of Sherman Alexie short stories and looking bored. The woman at the counter turned to us and said, “Hi, you must be here for the vision quest. The elders told me all about it. I will be your shaman for the day! My name is Puts Up With White Kids’ Bullcrap Even When They Don’t Know a Damned Thing About The Culture Because That’s What Pays the Bills. For this vision quest, I’ll be taking you to the spa and shoving you into the sauna until you lose consciousness. So, shall we head out?”

Puts Up With Bull did as she promised, and thirty minutes later, X-23 and I were naked, wrapped in towels, and sweating to death. I began to feel faint in the heat of the sauna (not to mention the heat coming off of X-23—mrow!), and I sunk to the floor. The quest had claimed me, and soon I would discover what the great alien god West Rosen meant in the grand scheme of the universe!

In this vision, I was a robot, metal to the core and identical to the rest. Then I looked up, and stared into my face: I was an alien, as powerful as I’d always known! Alien, but robot! Robot, but alien! What did this mean? Would I have to come to terms with the duality of my nature? What was my nature? What is existence?

I could feel myself on the brink of enlightenment when a sharp pain awoke me. X-23 had kicked me and sliced my leg open with one of the claws on her feet. Every claw was extended as she lay on the floor in what looked like an epileptic fit. “Sensei, forgive me…Dr. Kinney, mother, forgive me…” she whispered. She was in a bad state, and when I tried to shake her awake she pimp-slapped me with the blunt end of her claws. Her eyes slowly came back into focus, and then she stood and turned away.

“Put a bandage on that leg and get some clothes on,” she growled. “We’ll have to go after a Wendigo.”

Because we couldn’t get very deep into the woods with the Expedition, I had X-23 climb on my back so I could fly us both into Wendigo country. When we landed, X-23 tore off my bandage and I started bleeding again.

“Hey!” I yelled.

“Shh. A Wendigo will smell the blood and come here.”

Sure enough, one of those beasts came stumbling through the woods.

“One of the nuns,” X-23 muttered to herself.

“How can you tell?” I asked.

“She’s wearing a rosary. Besides, she still smells like a nun.”

X-23 lunged at the Nun Wendigo, claws out, tearing into the beast, and then I flew into it, shoving it into a tree. The Wendigo tried to take me out with her claws, but my trip with X-23 had taught me when to dodge. After a few more rounds, the Wendigo dropped to the ground and roared out what sounded like the Act of Contrition or something—I wouldn’t know, I’m not Catholic.

X-23 then gave the Wendigo a concussion and we were able to fly her back to the Department H field headquarters for the Pit Stop. I went back to collect the Expedition and pick up a couple of Slushos, and now X-23 and I are just chillin’ and waiting for the rest of the teams to arrive.