The feeling of flying brought to mind a whole list full of adjectives and poetic phrases but when it came right down to it, flying was just pretty damn cool. It was awesome. It was exhilarating. It was like feeling the wind kiss your skin in familiarity...now she was getting off track. Flying was a thrill and it was also key in escape plans, something Rogue learned very early on, very, very early on. She didn’t want to reflect on her habit of needing escape plans. She was just well prepared, that was all. Bursting straight up into the sky, set her nerves on fire, gave her that quick hit of ecstasy that made being a mutant pretty worth it. So when she landed in an empty alleyway, even as her feet touched down lightly on the ground her hands were shaking a little, all from the rush, it certainly had nothing to do with the fact she’d just run into Logan and the X-Men like it was an everyday occurrence and had bolted before things could have gotten more interesting. They’d been a small hindrance; that was all, she had a goal and she’d accomplished it because she was the Rogue and the Rogue didn’t pussy foot around things, she got the job done. So what if she’d just been face to face with old friends, comrades and not to mention the man who’d taken up most of her life’s thoughts, she’d left for a reason, it wasn’t like she was going to stay and chit chat, even if Logan had looked more than exceptional in his trademark jeans.
Yeah, it wasn’t her fault they’d been home at the time of her arrival. Although, it was kind of her fault she hadn’t been awake on arrival, partly. A quieter entrance would have been preferred. In and out without any face time. She wasn’t a coward really. She had places to be, people to see. Really. She refused to dwell on the tiny amount of surprise she’d felt at seeing Logan still at the mansion and the way he had looked at her. Dwelling wasn’t her thing; she was a woman of action.
Kicking open the side metal door on the brick layered building she strolled through with purpose as the techno music coming from within thumped in her ears, getting her blood flowing. One adrenaline rush after another.
The green haired mutant standing in front of a black curtain nodded at her in recognition. Rogue gave her a curt nod as the curtain opened. Walking through, the assault of the continuous beat was instantaneous as she was at the heart of the club. Peering down from the walkway, she watched as a few cluster of mutants mingled on the dance floor. The liquor was flowing despite the time of day; any mutant haven was going to be popular any time.
Leisurely, Rogue made her way down the steps, her hand trailing along the rail idly. A few people recognized her and raised their drinks at her but she wasn’t planning on partaking in any pleasurable activities at the moment.
Briskly, she moved through the floor and walked past the bar where a familiar face was mixing drinks. Pyro threw the small towel he’d just used to wipe the bar down with over his shoulder and lent forward as she approached. He was wearing a long sleeved orange shirt, one arm rolled up, where the scars were visible. His hair was spiked brown, the blonde tips grown out a long time ago, a reminder of poor choices. A long vertical scar ran down from his left temple to his jaw, it was where a piece of a flying car door had hit him in the face. It had happened at Alcatraz Island. Obviously. Flying car doors weren’t common place.
John had seen firsthand the price for Magneto’s cause. He paid the cost by recognizing it too late. She never understood how he had ignored Magneto’s abandonment of Mystique after the cure, what did that say about the rest of them. And when things had gotten out of hand at Alcatraz, John had been left to fend for himself. Another one lost to the cause.
John had no cause anymore. Mutant or Human. X-Men or Brotherhood. He was just a mutant getting by. Besides being a bartender at a mutant club wasn’t exactly boring.
“Is she here?” Rogue asked tersely. John recognized the annoyance in her voice and smiled knowingly.
“In the back.”
She nodded and moved towards the door that was marked STAFF.
“Need a drink, Rogue?” he called.
“Nah, but she may need a stiff one afterwards.”
His laughter followed her through the door.
Walking through another black door Rogue entered the lounge, her eyes alert. The walls were randomly red and black, the furniture dark and gothic looking. Rogue herself found it to be a bit over the top but she knew that the long black leather couch was rather comfy. She frowned at the woman sitting on it whose expression was filled with knowing amusement.
“Nice stunt, Raven,” she muttered as she sat across from the other women.
Mystique leaned forward and only smiled at Rogue. “We’ll you're here so I’m assuming it went well.”
“You threw me out of a damn plane!”
“You can fly and you’re invulnerable.”
Rogue’s eyes widened. “You slipped a sedative in my drink!”
“You were wasting time,” Mystique responded as though she’d just answered for everything.
“There could have been a better way to approach the situation.”
“You were stalling, Rogue and you know it,” she replied, raising one eyebrow as her yellow eyes gleamed. “The way you were going on about it, it was probably going to be months before you set foot in that mansion. Saying you needed a plan.” Mystique threw a hand up in the air dismissively. “No plan needed. You drop in. The X-Men are thrown off and you get what you need without any of the added emotional drama that would have surely exhausted you.”
Rogue balled her fists. “YOU THREW ME OUT OF A PLANE!”
“I knew you’d survive.”
Rogue huffed in display and relaxed against her seat. “I don’t know if that shows you have a large amount of confidence in me or if you’re just a sadist.”
Mystique’s red lips thinned as she smiled. Rogue frowned.
“I don’t want to know.”
Mystique reached over and picked up a blue cocktail beside her.
“I landed in a shed,” Rogue remarked.
The blue mutant sipped her drink with a smile. “My timing was off then. Too bad it wasn’t the Wolverine’s room.”
Rogue glared at her. “You really are trying to make me throw you through a wall today, aren’t you?”
Mystique shrugged behind her drink and even that simple movement was somehow seductive. “Maybe I’m just bored.”
Rogue rolled her eyes.
“Well did you get it? Was I right?”
“Yes,” Rogue hissed through her teeth. “All that time and he knew....” she huffed as she trailed off.
“A waste of time being angry with the dead, Rogue.”
Simultaneously both of Rogue’s eyebrows went up surprised at such advice coming out of the other woman’s lips. “You are enjoying today far too much.”
Mystique nodded. “It’s not every day I get to throw someone out of a plane – maybe annually, but certainly not every day.”
Rogue turned her head away. She really hated it but sometimes it was really hard to stay in a state of pure rage around Mystique. She knew it was an unhealthy fault of hers. They didn’t have an easy alliance but after the cure, after Magneto’s dismissal of her she hated to say it but somewhere along the way Mystique had become even more relaxed. She was the opposite of pretty much everyone Rogue knew. Whereas anger made people irrational; betrayal and rage seemed to only make Mystique calmer. It was frightening. Because Rogue had plenty to be angry about with the woman. But common goals had a habit of enemies becoming – allies. Certainly not friends.
“You’re going to win a Mother of the Year award any day now,” she responded flippantly.
Oh yeah, and there was the added fact that in her earlier life Mystique had been her foster mother. It was a funny thing finding out about a life you don’t remember. She kind of figured Logan himself wasn’t going to be prepared for it if he ever found out his past. Apparently, they had a lot more in common than she’d originally thought. Logan hadn’t been the only one with forgotten memories. Forgotten ties.
“God,” Mystique moaned dramatically. “You spend a few hours in the care of the X-Men and suddenly your back to being a whiny brat.”
“They never intentionally threw me out of a plane.”
“No they just restricted your potential.”
“I swear I am not in the mood for the ‘potential’ speech today.”
“Well, I won’t have to get to it, if you show me what you took.”
“I thought it was reclaimed?”
“Rogue,” the other woman spoke in a warning tone.
“Whatever,” she replied as she took the small book out of her jacket and threw it on the couch beside the other woman as she got up. Walking towards the small bar she poured herself a glass of whiskey.
“It’s damaged,” Mystique spoke up after a few moments. “Pages missing.”
Rogue glanced over her shoulder as she finished her drink and poured herself another.
“He also rebound it as you can see,” she paused to take a sip, enjoying the burn as the amber liquid went down. “I figure he had the original diary, but it was damaged already, so he took the salvageable pages and bound them in a book, so no one would be the wiser.” Taking another gulp she finished her second drink. “Xavier was resourceful like that.”
“Don’t be so bitter, Rogue,” Mystique muttered but her eyes were wandering over the pages with focus. “He thought he was doing what was best.”
“Then why didn’t he tell any of the other X-Men?”
“Maybe he did, but his two top students aren’t around to tell us.”
Rogue glared into her empty glass. “I doubt it,” she replied darkly. “He failed to tell us and most importantly Scott and Jean about the Phoenix. “ She reached for the bottle as her thoughts turned dark.
Mystique looked up from the pages. “Yes, I suppose Xavier wasn’t immune to arrogance.”
Rogue turned around and glanced at her.
“He and Erik did have that in common.”
Rogue snorted as she raised her glass to her lips but a large explosion came from outside the door.
“What the hell?” she started.
Mystique was already on her feet. She threw the book back at Rogue.
“Put it away,” she commanded sharply.
Quickly, Rogue put the book back in the inside pocket of her jacket.
John abruptly burst through the door.
“It’s that damn Cajun,” he exclaimed.
Mystique glared at Rogue. “You and your taste in men.”
Rogue looked mildly sheepish before nonchalant as she finished her drink much to Mystique’s dismay. “It’s not my fault he’s a thief.”
“Maybe you should ask that of the men you bed next time.”
“Then I’d be paranoid,” Rogue replied, slowly she smirked. “Then I’d be like you.” Thinking on what she’d just said she shivered.
“Guys,” John interrupted. “That thief just blew up part of the main entrance.”
“Anyone hurt?” Rogue asked.
“No,” he replied. “But it’s a lot of mayhem.”
“He thinks he has us trapped,” Mystique muttered.
“Well, if he’s here we could try and turn the tables and get the diary he has from him. Then we’d only need one more.”
Mystique was quiet for a moment as Rogue knew she was assessing the situation.
“He’s good at what he does Rogue.”
“Oh I know,” Rogue spoke up with a smile.
Mystique’s glare did shut her up the second time.
“He most likely doesn’t have it on him and I don’t want to take him on so directly when we have one of them in our own hands.”
“So what do we do?”
“John,” Mystique commanded. “You cause your own little distraction out there but try not to damage the place to much I’m kind of fond of the drinks here.”
The shouts from inside the club were getting closer.
“And Rogue you’ll be in charge of making a new back exit.”
“Got it,” John yelled already moving back through the door.
Sighing, Rogue put her empty glass down and walked over to the far outside wall.
“I thought you were a fan of the interior decorating in here,” she threw over her shoulder as she punched through the wall. Plaster going in every direction.
“I’m a bigger fan of escape routes,” Mystique responded.
Rogue nodded. Guess that ran in the family.
Four more punches and the last time she hit brick as it crumbled away and the sounds of the street outside were heard clear as day. Pushing through the wall she stumbled onto the sidewalk, ignoring the few people who looked on from the other side of the street in surprise. Brushing herself off, Mystique followed her with an impatient look.
Rogue ignored her as she dusted her shoulder off.
“You’re not the one who did all the hard work.”
“Time to go, Rogue.”
“Right, right,” she muttered. “Hold on.” Reaching over she grasped Mystique’s hand. “I wouldn’t want to drop yah now.”
“How original,” the other woman snapped.
“I suppose it doesn’t have the same flare as a plane,” she responded as she pushed off the ground and they flew up into the sky.
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