She reached for a blanket. There was a strong breeze coming through the open window. Her hand searched blindly. She opened her eyes, and the memories flooded back. She sat up in the bed, frantically looking around in the dark blue of the night, searching for some sign of where she was. She gasped in horror when she saw red eyes looming in the shadows of the room. Instinctively, she climbed backwards, but she was stopped by the headboard. The eyes moved toward her.
A man stood before her, tall, dark, and handsome. He was flipping a card across his knuckles, back and forth. His hair was rather long, and those eyes… they bore into her. She wanted to scream. It was the man she had seen earlier, at the club, only without the sunglasses.
“Who…who are you?” she asked, her voice thick and hoarse with sleep and fear.
“No worries, cherie, you’ll find out soon enough.” His words were tainted with an accent, characteristic of a New Orleans native. “She’s awake!” he called.
The next person to enter the room was no stranger to Rogue. She could not stifle a cry when she saw Mystique. Her eyes quickly narrowed and she hissed, “What are you doing here?”
Mystique smiled, her white teeth contrasting greatly with her indigo skin. “We’ll get to the small talk later. Right now, I think we have some things in common.”
“What could I possibly have in common with you?” Rogue shot back.
Mystique’s smile faded. “Betrayal. Abandonment.” She moved closer to Rogue. “You hate Magneto…and so do I.”
Rogue blinked. “What are you talking about?” She hugged her knees close to her chest.
Mystique explained the events that had occurred before the incident at Alcatraz. “He left me for dead and persecution, and now I have a bone to pick. You took the cure of your own free will, but you can redeem yourself in the eyes of our kind, Rogue.”
“I’m not ashamed of what I did,” she contended. She knew it was a lie.
“No? Then why did you run? I fought to get my powers back, and so will you.”
“No!” Rogue shook her head furiously. “I’m cured. I’m never going back to being an X-man.”
Mystique smirked. “No, but you can come with me. You are a powerful mutant, Rogue. You can become anything you desire with one touch. You could be great. One day, you could be more powerful than Charles Xavier.”
“Stop it!” Rogue screamed. “You’re evil! You kill people to get what you want! You hate humans! I’ll never go with you!”
Malicious laughter filled the room. “You don’t have a choice. I came for you, and I’m not leaving without you.”
“Why? I’m powerless! Why can’t you leave me alone?”
“Au contraire; you are very powerful,” the Cajun finally spoke.
“Shut up, Gambit,” Mystique chided.
“I still don’t know who the hell you are.” Rogue now knew that his name was Gambit, but she wanted to know what his purpose was.
“Like I said; small talk, later.” Mystique seemed like she was in a rush, pressured by an invisible clock. “Rogue, you have to trust me.”
“What?” she scoffed. “You want me to trust you? Why?”
“There is a prophecy. A great oracle revealed something to me about you. If you come with me, I can show you what it feels like to be unstoppable.”
“But you tried to kill me.”
“No, Erik tried to kill you. I was just a spectator.”
“But you want to destroy humans.”
Mystique shrugged. “I’m over that vendetta for now. I’ve got my sights set on something else. I want Magneto dead.”
The man she had called Gambit continued to toy with his card. He caught Rogue looking at him, and the card in his hand was enveloped in a red glow. Rogue gasped. It was beautiful and scary all at the same time.
“You want me to kill him?” Rogue turned back to Mystique.
“I want you to help me. Like I said, we have some common interests.”
“But you never use your powers against another mutant. I learned that a long time ago. And if you make me do this, I’ll be just as degenerate as you.”
“There is no shame in doing whatever it takes to protect your kind,” her yellow eyes tapered with anger. “Even if that means you have to use a little…friendly fire.”
Gambit chuckled.
“But how many have to die for you to feel safe?”
There was a slimy sound as Mystique transformed. Rogue inhaled sharply. Logan. “Maybe I can convince you, kid? How many do I have to kill to get my justice?”
“That’s not funny!” she hurled the alarm clock at the mimic. He quickly sliced it to shreds. Mystique changed back to her true form.
“Your precious Wolverine is no different that myself or Magneto. He kills to get what he wants. There is no black and white in our world.”
Rogue was silent for a long time. “Let’s say I do go with you. Where are we going?”
“San Francisco.”
“Why? What’s there?”
“Someone Mystique needs to have a chat with,” Gambit smirked.
“How long am I going to be with you?”
“As long as it takes.”
“And…when you finish your business, you’ll let me go?”
Gambit laughed. Mystique shot him a glare. “Yes… I’ll let you go.”
The next morning, they checked out of the motel and piled into a truck. Mystique chose the form of an attractive middle-aged blonde woman, and Gambit wore sunglasses to hide his red eyes. They stopped at Rogue’s apartment, where she gathered most of her things, including her stash of money. She left a note and her final share of the rent on the kitchen table.
Rogue kept quiet as they drove along the interstates. She had no idea what she had gotten herself into. She didn’t necessarily want to be involved in killing mutant traitors, but she was curious about the prophecy Mystique mentioned. She imagined that she was going to become a mutant queen, ruler of all.
Throughout the trip, they stopped periodically to pick up other mutants, progressing from one truck to a convoy. Rogue got used to the speech she was supposed to give about betrayal, mutant honor, and that lovely shade of gray. She made new friends, and she felt an acceptance comparable to her first few days at Xavier’s mansion. She especially liked Gambit.
She discovered that his real name was Remy LeBeau, and, unfortunately, he was married. But, he had killed his wife’s brother, because the idiot challenged a Southern boy to a duel, so the relationship was technically over. He showed interest in Rogue, and he taught her to pick pockets and locks. She thought Logan was a bad-boy, but Remy was something else. He confessed that Mystique had seduced him, and he had nothing else to do, so he joined her.
It took them two weeks to get to San Francisco. They staked out an abandoned warehouse. Mystique urged Rogue to practice a series of meditations to try and engage her powers. Rogue became the designated source of food. She had started off the trip with close to $7,500; therefore she paid for meals, gas for the truck, and supplies.
It was a little before sunset when Mystique approached Rogue. She told her that she had a mission and she needed Rogue’s help. They drove toward a nice residential area and parked. “Now, repeat it one more time.”
Rogue sighed. “I’m a Jehovah’s Witness, and I force my way into her house. I distract her long enough for you to slip through the upstairs window, and attack her from behind in the living room.”
“Good,” Mystique smiled.
“I don’t see why we can’t just go up to her and ask if she wants to help,” Rogue mused. “I mean, she hates Magneto just like the rest of us.”
“Carol’s got a bit of resentment towards me.” Mystique checks the rearview mirror and then looks back at the San Franciscan townhouse.
Suddenly Rogue felt uneasy about this mission. “What kind of resentment?”
“The kind that’s going to maker her difficult to persuade. Here she comes!”
Rogue took a deep breath and popped up the lock on the door. She carefully made her way toward the tall blonde woman carrying a bag of groceries. “Ex-..Excuse me!” she called.
The woman ignored her, climbing the steps to her home and fumbling in her purse for her keys.
“Excuse me!” Rogue called again.
Carol Danvers turned to identify the source of the greeting. “Can I help you?” she asked, out of breath.
“I won’t take much of your time, Ma’am. I just wanted to talk to you about the path to salvation.”
Carol quickly registered what was going on, and she smiled. “Oh, no thank you. I’m not interested. If you wait right there, I’ll be back with a donation.”
Rogue shook her head. “No, ma’am. Really that’s not necessary. I promise that I won’t take too much time.”
Carol rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Alright, just wait on the steps and I’ll be right back. Let me put my groceries down, at least!”
She jogged into her house, kicking the door closed behind her. Rogue waited patiently on the top step, her heart pounding. She had a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. She nervously looked around for Mystique and spotted the truck. It was empty. Mystique was already in motion.
The door opened, and Carol Danvers put on her glasses. “Now, where were we?”
Rogue made up a speech about going to Heaven and the Bible, as best as she could. She reached back to her Sunday school days. “You know, I really think people forget the true meaning of Christmas…”
Carol looked at her funny. “Christmas? I thought you guys don’t celebrate Christmas?”
Rogue nearly choked. “Um…”
She didn’t need to explain any further, because in a fell swoop, Mystique pulled Carol into the house. Rogue quickly ran inside and shut the door. Mystique had a solid grip on Carol’s throat, but the woman fought back. Rogue felt like a deer caught in the headlights as she watched the two women struggle, shattering glass, picture frames, and knocking over vases.
“Don’t just stand there!” Mystique ordered. “Help me!”
Carol Danvers’ glasses were askew, so she threw them off. Rogue retrieved the rod iron poker from the caddy by the fireplace, and swung toward Carol. She was too quick however, anticipating Rogue’s move. She ducked, and the metal struck Mystique. There was a sickening crack, and Mystique fell to the floor. Rogue panicked.
Carol turned toward her, her eyes set ablaze. Rogue dropped the tool and ran toward the door. She wasn’t fast enough, and Carol tackled her. She punched her in the face, the stomach, and the ribs. Rogue gasped for air and fought to regain her strength. Carol grabbed Rogue’s shoulders and slammed her head against the hardwood floor.
The pain was so blinding that Rogue felt nausea rising through her chest. Carol stood up and ran toward her hutch. She grabbed a cell phone and began to dial. Rogue’s vision was blurred, but she saw Mystique lying on the floor, a river of blood seeping away from her ears and mouth. Rogue rolled over onto her stomach and pushed herself up. “No…no!” her voice was a whisper.
She trudged toward Carol, who dropped the phone and threw a glass paperweight in Rogue’s direction. It skimmed her shoulder, but it stung. With all the force she could muster, Rogue planted her fist into Carol’s jaw. The older woman looked stunned. It was the beginning of the end.
They clutched each other, respectively fighting for the upper hand. Carol was strong, extremely strong, but she held back. The girl in front of her was young, only 18 or so. “Give up!”
“No!” Rogue persisted.
“I’m warning you!” Carol cautioned.
“NO!” Rogue dug her nails into Carol’s cheek. Carol shoved Rogue with all her might, and the girl flew through the glass doors to the small back yard. Rogue felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. She had no time to recover, because Carol grabbed her by the collar.
Rogue realized that they were airborne. She screamed and fought, as the wind whipped her face. She felt herself falling, and she landed with a thud on cold concrete. Carol planted her foot on Rogue’s chest and glared down at her. “Give. Up.”
Rogue panted. “NO!” She slipped from Carol’s grasp. She grabbed her blonde hair and tugged viciously. Carol spun around and adhered her hands to Rogue’s neck. She forced her backwards toward the block wall. Rogue felt the concrete sink into the small of her back, and she frantically looked around. She was on a tower of some sort, and she was about to be thrown to her death.
You have always been strong. Great power lies ahead.
Carol Danvers’ cruel gaze disappeared. Her mouth went slack and thick gray veins appeared across her face. Rogue felt the familiar surge, the screeching sounds throughout her mind. By the time she realized what was happening, it was too late.
“Let go…” Rogue pleaded, her voice was gravelly. “Let go.”
Rogue had never held the contact for this long before, save for Magneto. “Stop it,” she sputtered. “Stop!”
Carol screamed and crumpled to the floor. Rogue lost her balance and fell backwards. Her mind raced, and she desperately reached for something to break the fall. Suddenly her speed slowed, and she discovered that her attempts to turn her body were successful. She stopped herself a few meager inches from the ground. She stood on her feet and took a moment to reclaim her bearings.
“Where am I?”
Salem Center, New York
Charles Xavier dropped the chess piece from his hands. He stared straight ahead, his eyes glazing over.
“Professor? Professor, are you alright?” urged Bobby. He waved his hand in front of the Professor’s gaze.
Logan took notice of the Professor’s sudden change in behavior, and abruptly rose from the couch in the den. “You okay, Chuck?”
“Rogue…” the Professor muttered. The name seized everyone’s attention.
The color drained from Logan’s face. “What is it? What happened?” He grabbed Xavier’s shoulders and shook him. “What happened?”
Storm pried Logan’s hands from the Professor. “Stop it! Charles, what’s wrong? Say something!”
He finally spoke again. “Something terrible has happened.”
“Where is she?” Logan shouted.
“I don’t know… I can’t find her. I can’t find her thoughts.”
“She’s dead?” asked Bobby, panicking. Logan’s nostrils flared and his body was tense with rage.
“No,” Charles explained. “Much worse. She’s lost her consciousness.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Disclaimer: The X-Men and their likenesses belong to Marvel and Fox, not me.