President McKenna was a calming presence during the turmoil. He assured the American people that they were safe in a way that no one else could. “Wait it out,” was his message in so many words. “Go about your business in blissful ignorance, pretend like nothing is wrong. I’ll take care of you.” That’s what most people wanted to hear. Despite what the news depicted, really stanch anti-mutant protestors were few and far in between. A lot of people showed up to wave their signs every once in a while, and they complained about the mutant problem to anyone who’d listen, but that’s pretty much where it ended. No one legitimate had stepped up to organize their idle hate into action.
In that area, the Brotherhood had the advantage. Magneto’s skill at manipulating the minds of impressionable mutants was almost as adept as his finesse in handling metal. His following grew steadily as he moved from city to city. He was a fugitive at large, yet he wasn’t running from anybody. No prison cell could hold him and the only person powerful enough to kill him wouldn’t. Professor Xavier always knew where he was, though, and what he was up to. The few moves Magneto made were designed specifically to test us and always ended in stalemates. Mostly, he bided his time and held rallies.
The Harlem rally that took place the day of my twentieth birthday was the largest yet. There were close to a hundred mutants gathered into the dimly lit warehouse basement, nearly every one of them teenagers. Bobby, Kitty, Jubilee, Peter, Keller, and I didn’t look at all out of place fanned out among them. Not that we were worried about being spotted. It was just easier to observe if we remained inconspicuous. I lingered in the back, keeping a watchful eye on the others. Besides Bobby, they weren’t officially X-Men yet. I felt it was my responsibility to look out for them even though each one of them had powers greater than mine.
I scanned the crowd, noting that Professor Xavier was right. Magneto did appeal most to those whose mutations had manifested in the physical. Predictably, they were the ones who responded loudest when the speaker’s heated declarations grew aggressive. I recognized the speaker from one of our skirmishes a few weeks back. He looked to be only a little older than me. The manner in which he spoke gave me the impression that he was well educated, possibly with a background in political science. His phrasing was carefully constructed to make him seem at once one of the crowd and omnipotent. His long legs ate up the stage as he paced, microphone in hand. He nodded as the crowd clapped and shouted out their agreement to his last point.
“Yes, yes people. We are all one. But let me take a moment to address all my brothers and sisters of color here tonight. It’s been fifty years since your grandparents and my grandparents fought to give our mothers and fathers freedom in this land of liberty. Fifty years ago, they thought they’d won. Won what? Nothing’s changed. We might be free but are we treated as equals? That’s right. No! We are not equal in the eyes of those in power and we never will be. Just like they will never see we mutants as equals. But don’t you worry yourselves about them. They will one day be judged. Judged twice, in fact. Once by us in this earthly plane and once more by the Lord God Almighty. And He will find them wanting!”
Boisterous cheers echoed on the concrete walls. I found it incredibly ironic that both sides exploited the idea of an angry God in their arguments against one another. When had the just and caring God Kurt had taught me to love so much gone out of style?
“Enjoying the show?” My head swiveled around swiftly. John smirked, taking pleasure in the fact that he’d been able to startle me. “Don’t worry, I’ll be on my best behavior.”
Worry had never even registered with me. I was too surprised. I’d met John in confrontation multiple times, but this was the first time we’d been on the verge of conversation that extended beyond the catchphrase, “Burn, bitch.” Without the enraged gleam in his eyes, he looked unsettlingly normal. His smirk was almost friendly.
Guilt unfurled in my stomach. Why hadn’t we done more to save him? He’d chosen his own path, true, but if it had been me I know that Logan at least would’ve done everything he could to bring me back. We’d let John go with barely a murmur of protest. We hadn’t always gotten along, but he’d been my friend. I should’ve fought for him.
“So when’d that happen,” John asked, inclining his head toward where Bobby and Kitty stood facing the stage. They were holding hands.
“While ago. It’s been a year and, what, three or four months since we broke up.”
The corners of John’s lips turned down in surprise. “You two were practically married.”
“Never consummated. Poison skin and all.”
“You still got that?”
“Touch me and find out,” I challenged.
After a moment, we both looked away, grinning. I cleared my throat, willing myself to keep in mind that John was the enemy and I was here for a purpose. I turned my attention back to the speaker.
“Everyone talks about how different the philosophies of Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X were. We’re taught in school that MLK was a hero and Malcolm X was a dangerous rabble-rouser. But what do those men have in common? I’ll tell you what. They’re both dead. Not just dead, slain. It doesn’t matter to the enemy if you come in peace or war. Given the chance, they will eradicate every single one of us. Black, brown, white, blue, green, yellow – it doesn’t matter to them. All they see when they look at us is a freak. The choice is ours. Should we lay down and get trampled, or use our God-give weapons and fight?”
“Fight!” was the overwhelming response.
“Happy birthday,” John told me when the noise died down a little, apropos of nothing.
“What? Oh.” He wasn’t playing fair. We were supposed to be acting cold and detached from one another. It simplified things. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to be rude. “Thanks. Yours was in July, right?”
“Yep. I’m sure my gift just got lost in the mail.”
Playing along, I replied, “I don’t know what could’ve happened to it. I used FedEx and everything.”
“Overnight delivery?”
“Of course.”
“Eh, that’s all right. It was probably a crappy present anyway. What should I get you?”
“How about you stop setting me on fire?”
“Maybe if you weren’t always shooting at me, I would.”
“They’re tranquillizer darts, you big baby. And it’s my job.”
“Listen to that dedication. Such commitment is inspiring. You’re even working on your birthday.”
“Actually, it was to my advantage. We did a little sightseeing before we came here. I got over my Statue of Liberty-phobia. I’m glad they were able to rebuild the torch.”
“That’s right. You almost didn’t make it eighteen, never mind twenty. How’s it feel?”
“Same old. You?”
John snorted, his expression sullen. “Feels like fucking ninety.”
“Sometimes,” I agreed quietly. We were standing close enough together that he could still hear me.
“Oh? Everything’s not kitty cats and rainbows over in the gumdrop land of the just and righteous?”
“We have just as many enemies as you do.”
“Did you hear the governor of Mississippi wants to ban mutants from voting in the next election? Not that it’s going to be much of a fight. McKenna’s going to get his second term, no doubt. But doesn’t it piss you off that your home state wants to take away your rights?”
“Can’t be done. Anonymity is a mutant’s first defense,” I paraphrased the Professor.
Inclining his head toward a group of obvious mutants standing in front of us, John said, “Not everyone has that luxury. And how long do you think the rest of us will have even that much? Besides, the intent is what counts.”
He had me there, though I had to point out, “You know, you’re not helping anything by making non-mutants afraid of us.”
“They should be afraid. We have the power. I like to be the one to remind them of that.”
“Yeah, I saw you on the news the other night. What is it with you and cops?”
“They were infringing on my right for peaceful protest. I had to retaliate. It’s the American way.”
“Oh, yes, plotting to overthrow the government is so very peaceful. That’s called treason and it’s illegal. You should be in jail…What’s going on?” A hearty applause had broken out as the normal lighting was replaced by pulsating strobe lights. People clustered in groups to dance to the heavy beat of the music now pumping out of the speakers.
“No better way to get them to come back than giving them free alcohol and a party. My idea.”
“Isn’t Magneto going to offer any words of wisdom to his flock?” I hadn’t even caught a glimpse of him or Mystique yet.
“Not tonight. Looks like Ricochet did his job.”
“You don’t exactly sound thrilled.”
Ignoring that, John grinned at me wickedly. “Care for a dance with the devil?”
“No. Thank you,” I replied drolly. “What is this, anyway? They’ve repeated the word ‘freak’ about a hundred times and song’s barely started.”
“Hey, if you can’t change what you are, embrace it. But I think the song’s about sex anyway.”
Ricochet appeared out of the crowd to greet John warmly and slap him on the back. “Pyro, my man. How’d you like the speech?”
John looked at him with the utmost distaste. “It’s the same one you always give.”
“But the crowd, man. The crowd was hot. Am I right?” he asked, glancing in my direction. He didn’t wait for an answer. “Listen, Pyro, I gotta talk to you for a minute. Serious business. You mind excusing us, honey? Come on, let’s go talk outside.”
John did not look pleased with the situation. “Yeah, fine. I’ll be back, Rogue. Save me a dance.” Bastard actually attempted to grab my ass. I knocked his hand away indigently.
Ricochet finally recognized me. He fixed me with a penetrating look. “What’s she doing here?”
“Just enjoying the show,” I responded coolly, glancing at John out the corner of my eye.
“Forget about her. She’s not gonna do anything. Let’s go,” he said, pushing Ricochet toward the backdoor that led up into the alley.
They were discussing serious business, huh? That sounded like something worth eavesdropping on. Maybe then we’d have something to report to Professor Xavier besides, “Giant kegger.” I looked around for Kitty, but she was nowhere to be found. Not wanting to miss anything, I decided to go myself.
Crouching on the stairs, I carefully inched open the thick door and peered through the crack. John and Ricochet both turned to look at me, alerted by the music’s increase in volume. Well, no one had ever accused me of being stealthy. Luckily, that particular deficiency didn’t matter because I spotted the reason for the serious talk in the palm of Ricochet’s right hand.
Ricochet and John jumped back when I threw open the door. Wasting no time, Ricochet lunged at John, knife ready. Knowing from painful experience that any blow I landed on Ricochet would come back double on me, I pushed John out of the way instead of attacking Ricochet outright.
Ricochet missed John’s ribcage but caught me in my upper arm. The feel of steel passing through sinew was excruciating.
Letting out an angry, guttural yell, I lashed out. The toe of my shoe caught Ricochet right between the legs. Seeing the comic, astonished anguish on his face was worth the pain of getting thrown backwards into the uneven brick wall.
Ricochet hastily limped out of the alley, clutching himself and moaning loudly.
Dizzy but sadistically satisfied that I’d found his Achilles’ heel, I used the wall to get to my feet. “Do me a favor,” I told John, closing my eyes tightly. “Pull the knife out.”
“I’m not gonna – ”
“Do it. And make it fast.”
I almost cracked my teeth trying not to scream, but I managed to keep my dignity. Hissing in short breaths, I pulled up my sleeve to watch my skin knit together over the wound. I could feel the muscle tissue doing the same inside my arm. The dull ache left behind was only a partial relief.
“How’d you do that?” John asked, watching me wipe away my blood.
“I trained with Logan yesterday. I was hoping his power had stuck around.”
John dropped the bloody knife and kicked it away from us. “Good thing it did.”
“Yeah. I was pissed earlier, though. I took out my earrings to change them – totally not paying attention – and the holes closed up. I’m going to have to get them all re-pierced once it wears off. Five piercing at once.”
“Life’s a bitch.”
“Truly. Although, I will say, thank God his heightened senses never stick around. The hearing thing gives me a headache and don’t even get me started on the nose thing. It’s like smelling in Technicolor. Not fun.”
“Whatever you say.” John reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Want one?”
“I’m good,” I declined.
Using the shark lighter I remembered so well, he lit a cigarette for himself and leaned against the wall, one leg bent at the knee. John always did think he was James Dean incarnate.
“So, what was all that about?” I wanted to know.
He blew out a long stream of smoke. “Nothing much. I’m top dog, next to Mystique. Ricochet wants that spot for himself. Never thought he’d have the balls to actually do anything about it.” John cast me an appreciative glance. “Probably doesn’t anymore.”
I shook my head in disgust. “What kind of Brotherhood is this if you can’t even trust your own teammates?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ve never been much for team playing,” he sniffed arrogantly. Mockingly, he added, “I’m more of the rogue type.”
I sighed. “Well, if you ever get tired of the hyenas, you know where to go.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“Just the same,” I shrugged.
“Look, I know you saved my life and all, but that doesn’t entitle you to any say in it.”
The backdoor to the warehouse opened and Bobby stepped out. “There you are.” A frown settled on his face when he saw who I was with. “John.”
“Nice to see you, too, pal.”
“Come on, Rogue,” Bobby said warily. “We’ve got to get back.”
“Is that the kind of welcome home I can expect if I ever have a change of heart?” John asked me.
I pushed myself off the wall. “I don’t know. You haven’t had one yet. I’ll see you later.”
“You will. Just don’t expect me to pull any punches.”
Suddenly overwhelmingly tired, I replied dully, “Me either.”