The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
The tyres squeal as the car fights to slide around a corner. I’ve never driven so fast and it’s exhilarating, hands gripping the wheel, the drug-like edge of adrenalin still pumping through my veins like wildfire. Heh, which is appropriate seeing as the effects of the stolen mutation haven’t worn off yet.
Beside me Mystique is once again her trademark blue, her eyes glinting deviously, lips curled as her sleek fingers count through our spoils.
I know we did well this time. We could retire on this and live happily in the lap of luxury if we wanted. I smile at the image of the two of us sprawled out on a yacht somewhere out in the vast blueness, being waited on hand, foot and finger by a couple of hot guys. Yeah, I can see how that would have its benefits. But it would be a very sedate life, and where would be the fun in that?
The siren reminds me the cops are still chasing us. I catch the edge of a blue flashing light in my mirror, but I’m in control. I’m buzzing on the excitement and I’m not in the least bit worried. We have a plan.
"There," Mystique yells, pointing to a bland suburban bungalow. It looks worn, lived in. But it’s not. We checked it out. Occupants moved to New England a while back.
I swerve the car into the driveway of the next door house with the screech of burning rubber; we’re out before you can blink. I grab my stuff, she grabs the money, then it’s a race across the lawn. Door’s unlocked; we left it that way. Rush in, stash our bags under floor; pull the rug over the loose floorboards. We’re so prepared it all takes less than a minute to achieve.
By the time the wailing sirens catch up with us, we’ve already hidden the evidence. By the time they break down the door of the neighbour’s house, I’ve already stolen another hit of her mutation. And by the time they come knocking on our door, barging in, all slick black uniforms and nervous tension, we’re a quaint little old couple. Mystique is making a cup of tea. She offers one to the nearest SWAT member and I’m on such a high I have to force myself to stifle a giggle.
It doesn’t take them long to search the house. Open doors, check the basement. They don’t find anything. And as they leave they are all profuse apologies at disturbing us.
I almost feel sorry for them. They’re just regular people, making a living, trying to do the right thing.
Almost.
I can’t quite bring myself to get there. I suppose that makes me a bad person, but I can’t quite bring myself to feel guilty about that either. Guilt is another emotion long dead and buried. Marie was awash in it. Rogue doesn’t feel it.
And I don’t miss it.
Mystique breaks into my thoughts by holding out her dainty china tea cup towards me. "Cheers," she says sinking back into the blue and flashing me that wicked smile.
"Cheers," I return, clinking my own cup against hers.
It’s just all so easy.
"Jubes?" We’re on our way again and I have a phone call to make. One which I’m sure part of me should be dreading, but after the chase I’m strangely complacent about the whole thing.
"Rogue?!" She sounds completely shocked. Not that I can blame her. I walked out without saying goodbye, then after months of silence I phone out of the blue? Yeah, I’d be shocked too.
"Where are you? Are you alright? What-" she takes a deep breath and I can picture her perfectly, raking yellow painted nails through her hair. "What happened? Why did you leave?"
"I’m fine," I say. "More than fine. I’m great."
"But you just left! We were worried sick!"
They were? I’m flattered, but I’m unaffected. Call me cold, call me what you like, but I severed that tie. I never asked anyone to worry about me. It was high time I worried for myself.
"Listen Jubes. I don’t have long to talk, my cell phone’s running out of battery."
Mystique flashes me a sly smile at that lie.
"What do you mean? You can’t just phone and then disappear again! You have to-"
"I need you to do me a favour," I interrupt. "The orphanage, the one Xavier set up for mutants on the west coast. I need their details."
"You need..." That throws her. "Why? What on earth for?"
"I’m working now," I say, as if it’s obvious. Of course I don’t go into specifics, but then what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. "I’d like to make a donation."
That seems to puzzle her a little. Whatever she was expecting, I doubt it was that. She probably expected me to be a poor little runaway again, barely scraping enough together to eat. Ha.
"Um..." I can hear her rustling around with some papers. "It’s...uh... hang on."
"Jubes?"
"Just... wait a...moment...uh..."
She’s taking a long time to answer. Too long.
"Never mind," I say. "That’s my battery beeping. Gotta go. See ya."
"But-"
And that’s all she manages before I flip the phone shut.
"Well, that didn’t go to plan." Mystique gives me one of those disconcerting stares, she doesn’t blink.
I just shrug. I’m used to them by now. "Doesn’t matter. There are other ways to get that information. Think she was trying to put a trace on the call."
To be honest I’m not really worried. Poor Jubes. She wouldn’t know how to set up a trace if it bit her in the ass.
I push the thought away in the section of my mind saved for ‘problems to be dealt with later when I can be bothered’, kick back my feet and watch the cars speed by out of the clean glass.
We’ve a got a truck now, the rusty decoy car abandoned where we left it and no doubt crawling with cops. Our new baby, it purrs as it powers down the freeway. Fiery red, the colour of Mystique’s hair, and glossy with new paint. It’s an absolute monster on the road, but it barely made a dent in our new found fortune. And it’s best feature? I can slide back my seat and kick my feet up on the dashboard.
I’ve always wanted to be able to do that.
The orphanage thing is an annoyance, but not a hindrance. When we started this, Mystique and I, it was under the condition that we give something back to mutant kind. We target the organisations that take the most from us, those that fund the so called ‘government projects’. And while we keep a fair bit for ourselves, we always make sure we’re not the only one’s that benefit.
Kinda like a modern day Robin Hood. Heh. The Rogue with the hood. I always knew that cape was good for something.
"So where next?" I ask, delving around in the glove compartment for some food. I don’t really care, so long as it’s somewhere new. We’ll do as we’ve always done. Split up for a few days. I’ll scout around the area and Mystique will launder the money. Her best bet is usually the casinos; there are those that still don’t bother to check too carefully. Lose enough not to look obvious, cash in your chips at the end of the night and viola. Of course, after a while people start to get suspicious, but then being a shape shifter can be so useful at times.
"Pennsylvania?"
I pretend to think it over for a moment. "Y’know, I’ve always wanted to go to Philadelphia. I could cope with that. Anything else there of interest?"
"Mount Davis? The Liberty Bell?"
"Let me rephrase that. Anything of interest...to us?"
At that Mystique’s half smile turns serious. Her fingers curl over the leather of the steering wheel and I know she means business. "One federal storage facility. Home to a bunch of government officials, the origins of Stryker’s strike force... and a whole lotta cash."
"Interesting," I say. Already my mind is spinning. That would be a hit indeed. So far we’ve only done banks and small businesses. This would be kick in the government’s collective teeth. Nice. "Do you know if it’s-"
I don’t get any further. My cell starts to ring. I look at the number and curse. "Dammit, Jubes managed to trace the line after all."
I flick open the cover and put on my thickest southern drawl. "Hey sugar. Battery must be-"
"Where the fuck are you?"
Jesus. I nearly drop the phone in fright. That’s not Jubes.
It’s Logan.
He came back.
Shit.