Her head popped through the heavy fire doors first. There was no masked, heavily armed men that she could see. But she could hear voices jumbling together of people talking further away.
The building was square but had a giant courtyard in the middle of it. So the hallway was a continuous looping path through the whole floor that *hopefully* she could play ring around the rosie once or twice with Them. Depending on how stupid They were.
She stepped completely into the hall, taking a slow, deep breath and let the noise in her head wash over her. The usually constant drumming and gibberish intensified into actual words, screams, prayers, in high and deep voices, all roughly blending into a thundering mass.
She tried to concentrate on the useful noise, Lt. Anderson and the other two. The two men were simple. Weak personalities she could easily manipulate with her own. She shuffled through their memories and felt a bit more relax. They were pretty dumb. Basically they knew their names, Carl Strong and Steven Banks, and their age and identification numbers. And, of coarse, how to shoot a gun.
“Huh,” she shrugged, “Guess ah knew how afta all.”
They weren’t terribly complex individuals, unlike Anderson. She had to fight down the arrogance and cold-heartedness that threatened to overwhelm her and assimilate itself to her. He was harder to keep as second once she separated him from the others. He had determination and ambition, something most of the people she absorbed lacked. She concentrated on what she wanted out of him. After she got it she could push him back, let the drone masses swallow him whole again.
It was a struggle, but finally he gave up the information. In a residential seize they’d be disgusted as police. Usually a unit of eight. Minimal firearms, more likely to have tranqs for the Wolverine anyways. Must avoid civilian contact, don’t drawl unnecessary attention.
That was enough; she forced him back before he got too comfortable in front. The drumming gibberish slowly returned as she rubbed her temples and focused on her own self in her head. Now she just had to find Them.
She watched them, shaking her head while they searched. Did They really think Logan would hide behind a potted plant? A god damn oak tree couldn’t hide him. One more good deep breath and stepped out from behind the corner.
“Go, Logan! Ahm right behind ya!” She yelled down the empty corridor. Eight vacant faces snapped towards her in one synchronized motion. She waved at Them then quickly turned on her heels, running.
“Hey!”
“After her!”
She couldn’t help the giggle from escaping as she ran down the corridor. They were lagging horribly, a good fifteen feet behind her. While They were weighed down with Their gear and guns and whatever else, she didn’t even have shoes on her feet.
Actually, now that she thought about it, the soft crushed carpet felt pretty darn good. Infinitely better than asphalt or gravel or any of the other various surfaces she’d run from the cops on. It even provided a nice little extra spring that you just couldn’t get from hard ground.
Nice years ago when she was first chased she had been scared out of her mind and a blubbering mess from the all anti-Rogue voices lashing out in her head. Now she was relaxed, able to judge Their distance by the rattling of Their gear as it bounced up and down. And, if she did say so herself, she was quite a bit faster. Experience was priceless.
“Stop or we’ll shot!” She snorted at Their warning. They’d been shooting at her a lot lately and all They had to show for it was a scratch and burn on her arm. Maybe she shouldn’t use Carl and Steven’s advice on how to shoot a gun after all.
Just then an idea popped into her head. The onset of giggling from it was probably a bad idea, considering it was screwing her breathing up.
“Help! Help!” She yelled and knocked hard on the closest pristine white door as she ran past it. To do it she had to slow down a bit but continued to pound hard on each door as she ran past them, screaming at the top of her lungs.
“Somebody help! Please help me!”
People came pouring out into the hall from their various doors. She could hear them swearing and yelling “watch it!”, “what’s going on out here?” as They ran hard straight into them.
Risking it she decided to stop and admire her damage: a massive pile up of nightgowns and Kevlar vests and baseball bats and semi-automated weapons. She just couldn’t help it, she busted into a fit of giggles. It caused to brace her hands on her knees to lessen the cramp in her side but it was well worth it. Even several of the personalities in her head were entertained by the sight. Especially the old lady whacking one of Them with a firing pan. So much for minimal civilian contact.
“Get her!”
“Oh shit,” She took off again just as some of Them shoved at and untangled themselves from the confused ‘innocent bystanders’.
They were getting close to a complete lap around the plushy decorated Malistray Towers. A second lap was probably out of the cards. She was slowing down, she knew it. And her lungs her already constricting from the intense exercise she hadn’t exactly stretched for. A second lap also meant she’d have to get through the traffic jam she caused. Which defeated the whole point of doing it.
“Your last warning!”
Her head turned at the thick New Yorker voice that was new. Either she didn’t count very well the first time or she made some more friends. There had to be at least twelve of Them following her now. She picked up as much speed as she could and just tried to ignoring the burning in her chest where her heart should have been. There was no civilian buffers between her and Them now, They might actually shoot.
“Get to the stairs. Get to the stairs,” she began chanting to herself. Logan had to be out of the building by now, and hopefully currently, if not already in, hot-wiring a camaro.
Finally she was coming back to the fire door. The heavily laden men were still a few feet behind her. But close enough she could hear how badly They were huffing and puffing. Evidently They were in worse shape than she was. Maybe they just didn’t train top-secret, anti-mutant military units as well as they use to anymore.
“Freeze!” The same northern yelled again and she skidded to a stop at the wall.
They echoed her movement; piling up on each other is a sudden stop.
“Come on, doll face.” She narrowed her eyes as he stepped forward, his hands out in front of him. “Just walk over here. Real slowly.”
“Bite me.” She snapped before throwing her body hard onto the doors, running hard through them.
“God damnit!” The man yelled. He turned to the ten or so men standing dumbfounded behind him. “Well go get her you sons of a bitches!”
Her feet hit the steps hard and she swore at her height. If she was taller she could skip a few steps, but as it was her legs were rotating as fast as they could to quickly eat up steps. Things were quickly getting less and less entertaining when one of the bastards fired off a shot that exploded into the concrete wall somewhere behind her head.
Each step got its own “fuck” as she hit it. Three flights of stairs didn’t seem like that much when she thought up this little idea. As another shot sung out followed by the ringing of the iron railing she realized it was about two flights too many.
From the vibrations under her feet it felt like not one of Them took the elevator, like a herd of rhinos was chasing her in the crap confines. The voices in her head changed the chant to “Faster! Faster!” It was a rare moment when they all agree on one thing.
To make things worse dizziness was starting to cloud behind her eyes and she had to keep one hand on the railing to steady herself as she ran. She didn’t know if it was from going in circles around the hall then down the stairs or it was just plain exhaustion kicking in from too much exercise after not enough sleep but her feet were having a harder and harder time making contact with its appropriate step.
By the time she busted into the lobby her entire body was burning. Lungs, legs, head, everything. Luckily there wasn’t a mass of Them waiting at the door. So none of the actually took the elevator. What a bunch of complete morons. Where the hell did They think she was going?
She pushed Them out of her mind, and just concentrated on her own body. She was almost there. The rotating glass doors were only twenty feet away. She pushed her legs faster to increase the speed. She was almost there. She just had to get in the car and loose them on the road.
Just as she thought she was home free a green mass jumped in her way. Her bare feet were barely able to get enough friction on the smooth carpet to stop, but she managed to rein her body under control before she made impact.
“Mrs. Dover? What’s wrong?”
Tyler. The door kid. “Oh, Tyler!” She coughed, trying to get words out with the limited air in her chest. “Is tha truck, tha one ah came in, is it still in tha front?”
“No ma’am.” He stuttered, confused. “I...remember I moved it to the side of the building.”
She whimpered and rolled her eyes. “‘Coarse ya did.” She took off again, pushing off of him and leaving him standing with his mouth open.
“Wait, do you need any help?” He called after her put she was already through the door, sending in spinning chaotically after she got out.
“Hey! Don’t let her get away!”
Tyler turned around and balked at the large group of men with ‘POLICE’ written across their chests beginning to fill the lobby up. “Wh...who?” He asked as they ran up to him.
“Just forget it. Move out of our way!” The New Yorker shoved him sending Tyler stumbling back until he finally tripped over a chair and onto the floor. Then he jerked his arm at the door, signaling his men.
He couldn’t believe he was doing this. He wasn’t a hero; he didn’t want to be a hero. Hell, this wasn’t even being a hero, it was just being stupid. It seriously rivaled with volunteering for ‘advanced military training’. Even the Wolverine, who had always been on the girl’s side, as much as he was on anybody’s, snarled and snapped at him. He didn’t fight it, the internal attack, because he completely agreed with it. But something else kept the beast from taking control. And fuck if he knew what it was.
But here he was, hiding under the overgrowth of trees, car running, just sitting there. One hand was wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, white on the knuckles, red between them. The other hand was on the gear shift, waiting. He’d been in the same position for at least fifteen minutes now. And he came up with countless arguments and reason not to do this, in fact, he couldn’t seem to find a good one *to* do it. But here it was, still fifteen minutes later, his body tense and ready.
Damn her! Damn whatever she did to him that made him go against himself and everything he’d always been and everything he knew. Damn those dirty, torn gloves and those dark eerie green eyes that he just couldn’t get out of his head.
There. He could see them now, riving and swerving out of the apartment’s parking lot. His hand instantly moved the car out of park. As soon as the truck sped past the muscles in his thigh jumped and his foot slammed down on the gas without any hesitation. Sending him straight into the oncoming black vans.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Rogue shares her exercise secrets with us– lots of cardio.