Ch.3: The Defeat
The night of the biggest fight of the year; all around the cage humans and mutants crowded, the rich with the poor, to watch two mutants beat the shit out of each other. Musing on the ability of people (well, mutants too) to forget their differences for one night in order to watch a fight, Rogue sat on a bench in the big back room where the fighters were all waiting, some nervous, although most, like herself, were merely glaring at the others and occasionally taking a sip of the crappy watered down beer that had been handed to them as a ‘pre-fight beverage’. Several of the lesser-known fighters were glancing at her out of the corners of their eyes, noticing her white streaks (courtesy of her first absorbing encounter with Eric) and gloved hands and putting two and two together to make Rogue. Feeling in a particularly vindictive mood, she stared at them until they felt her heated gaze. When she had their full and terrified attention, she growled, low and long with a slight curling of the lip and then looked away, letting them stew in their nerves. When it was time for the fight to finally start, Rogue had to wait even longer as the first timers and immediate losers went first to warm up the crowd. From the back room muffled cheers, boos and occasional crashes were audible. Below that there was also the meaty sound of fist pounding flesh (or scales) whenever one of the amateurs managed to land a punch.
As the evening wore on, the smell of fear, nerves and sweat in the room grew stronger as fewer of the fighters came back to wait for the next round, the loser inevitably being dragged out of the cage and left in a far corner to come round or eventually to be taken to see what passed for a doctor in these parts.
After what seemed to be hours, the man knocking on the door finally called out ‘Rogue! You’re up!’. She dumped her plastic cup of so-called beer under her bench and stalked out after him, muttering ‘finally’. The cheer from the crowd when they saw her was amazing and she found herself fighting the urge to smile, to try and keep the bad-ass image she had spent so long creating.
“Ladies and gentlemen, humans and mutants, the as-yet unbeaten Rogue!”
Another cheer went up, with the occasional boos and shouts of ‘filthy mutie’, but she ignored them and stepped into the cage, the smell of blood coated iron, sweat and triumph hitting her instantly.
Across the bar, coincidentally in the same booth the X-men had previously occupied, Logan and Jean watched Rogue defeat mutant after mutant, occasionally drawing it out as if merely toying with her prey, but always winning. After half an hour, the master of ceremonies finally held up a hand to call for quiet.
“And now, before Rogue is named champion, she must beat one more mutant; any of you wimps out there up to the challenge?”
Logan stood up so quickly he nearly spilt his beer, and pushed through the crowd to the cage, ignoring Jean’s protests, and standing at the entrance of the cage.
“I will.”
Around them the punters cheered, recognising ‘The Wolverine’ and realising this was going to be the best fight they had all seen in a long time.
Rogue turned from her glaring match with a drunk man stood outside the cage, catching the scent of the Wolverine before she saw him, and one again Carol’s memories rose; the flash of lighting reflected off adamantium stained red with her own blood, and she growled low under her breath. Time for revenge. Looking each other up and down warily, Logan and Rogue stood a few feet opposite each other as the mc continued to shout to the crowd about their various stats; odds for betting (which were mostly in Logan’s favour), previous fights and the details of their mutations. With a nod, Logan spoke quietly, guessing Rogue’s Sabertooth-esque hearing would pick up his words.
“So you’ve never lost a fight? This could be a first then...”
Snorting, Rogue looked him up and down derisively.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, sugar. I’ve heard about you and I don’t think I’ll be having the pleasure of that particular first; all brawn and no brains they say...”
At Logan’s growl of disgust, she smiled and winked as the mc prepared to start the match.
“Ladies and gentleman, humans and mutants, prepare yourselves for one helluva fight.”
An unseen bell clanged and the pair went into action instantly as the mc dashed out of harms way into the crowd. After several minutes of unproductive protests, dodges and glaring, they stood, panting a little whilst they reviewed each other momentarily. With a self-satisfied smile, Logan slowly let his claws slide out, shining from the yellow lights above them. Having become impatient with the lack of effect his punches seemed to be having, he had decided this was the only way he was going to win.
Seeing the claws appear, Rogue raised an eyebrow and smiled.
“So we’re playing like that are we, sugar? Well then, I guess it’s only fair that we play equal now, isn’t it?”
All the time keeping eye contact with Logan, she pulled her gloves off daintily, finger by finger and dropped them to the floor of the cage. Putting a bare hand to her mouth, she feigned a look of surprised concern.
“Oops.”
Logan advanced on her, snarling, and she leapt into the air, flying feet first into his chest, knocking him to the floor on his back. Before he could react, she wrapped a bare hand around his throat, the connection opening up immediately and everything that made Logan Logan started to rush into her. With an angry (though decidedly weaker) growl, Logan managed to rake his claws up her back, drawing three lines of red in her shirt where his claws just about broke through her skin. Letting go of him instantly, Rogue flew straight up, hovering at the top of the cage for the few seconds it took to put everything she had pulled from Logan into a ‘box’ and threw it on a shelf in the back of her mind to be dealt with later. She then dropped to the ground in a pose reminiscent of ‘The Matrix’, one leg stretched out to the side, waiting for him to come at her again.
Logan’s claws flashed in the dull yellow overhead light as he drew one hand back ready to slice her top to toe and Rogue sprang at him again, ducking under his arm ready to grab at any bare skin. With a savage smile, Logan twisted to the side and sucker-punched her in the gut, claws going straight through her skin; having predicted what she would do, Logan had feigned going straight for her and Rogue realised this as she stared up at him, stunned.
“Looks like this is your first, darlin’ – I win.”
Gasping a little, Rogue reached up to grab him around the neck again, opening up the connection once more. As Logan collapsed to ground unconscious, his claws sliding out of her, Rogue glared down at him.
“Never underestimate me sugar; it’ll always go bad for you...”
Slowly Rogue became aware of the roar of the crowd around her and she smiled in realisation, triumph rushing through her making her feel light- headed; she had won, she had beaten the Wolverine. She was now the champion of Canada. The mc appeared beside her and raised her arm in the air to more cheers.
“Rogue – the champion! As well as this prestigious title, you will also be receiving a total of $500,000 in cash!”
Having staggered from the cage, one hand over the three claw wounds in her stomach, she waived away any offers of help – she could already feel what was left of the small amount of Sabertooth’s healing she had picked up already start to kick in. Both touches from Logan also helped speed up the process quicker than usual. By the time she had reached the back room where she had been waiting, the only sign that Logan’s claws had ever touched her was three lines of new, pink, shiny skin showing through the shredded shirt on her back and her stomach. The composed, smiling expression on Rogue’s face was nothing compared to the roar of victory she felt inside over beating the Wolverine.
The Wolverine’s current feeling was not one of victory but a bitter outrage at the fact he had been beaten; he, the Wolverine, had been beaten for the first time ever. Not only had he been beaten, he had been beaten by a woman. Coming round to find Jean kneeling over him, worry showing clear in her face and scent, he had sat up rubbing his head; but Jesus that had hurt. His first thought was to go and find Rogue and beat the shit out of her. The he remembered he had already tried to do that but ended up being the beaten out of shitee, and growled to Jean. “You tell anyone back at the mansion about this and you’re dead...”
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