Title: Magnolia
by: Satine16
Disclaimer: None of the characters in this story belong to me, they belong to MARVEL comics. I am not doing this for money so please do not sue me!
Chapter One: Intro
The old ceiling fan worked hard but spun slowly, unable to fight the heavy heat and humidity saturating the room. The motel room smelled of corroding life: sickly sweet and inundated with sweat. The thin ecru sheets were stained and worn and lay exposed on an unmade queen sized bed. An old, red, metal oscillating fan shook in the corner, also unable to keep up with the heat.
Remy LeBeau sat quietly in the chair near the window, staring intently between the metal blinds out into the hot Louisiana afternoon, smoking a cigarette. He wore a pair of old navy boxer shorts, his shaggy auburn hair unclean and unkempt. His body, composed of solid, lean muscle, was contorted elegantly in the chair, like a predatory cat.
The only sunlight that entered the room crept through the cracks in the aluminum blinds. Long thin lines of warm yellow light stretched languidly across the carpeted floor. As Remy took a long drag, the deep red color of his eyes flashed brightly.
With a loud bang the bathroom door slammed open and the harsh fluorescent light spilled across the room. Tripping slightly over herself, Belle stumbled toward the bed. With a quick glance Remy noted the remnants of her cocaine on the bathroom counter. That was her diet now: coke in the morning, heroin to party at night.
Her hair was a bright, bottle blonde and she wore a lavender satin and lace nightgown. As she rested against the bed, Remy studied her diminished figure. When they met Belle had the supple curves and tone of a lingerie model. Today, her body was frail and bony; two ribs were visible even under the thin fabric she was wearing. Her cheek bones were as sharp as two blades in the center of her face and the deep purple hollows underneath her eyes successfully eliminated any of the glimmer that had the chance of remaining.
"Fuck!" she swore loudly as her surgically repaired nose began gushing blood. At the rate she was going she would ruin her septum again by the end of the year.
Remy sat in silence for a few moments, watching Belle tilt her head back in an effort to stop the bleeding. Her form was contorted on the bed, her awkwardly thin limbs giving her the appearance of a broken doll.
Without a word, Remy stood and silently slipped on jeans and a white t-shirt. Running his fingers through his hair twice, he grabbed his beaten up trench coat off the back of a rickety wooden chair and headed for the door.
"Where you goin'?" Belle asked pointedly, now turning to face him. The pale skin above her curvaceous upper lip was now stained red.
"Out," Remy purred, his voice smooth. Gracefully, he moved to her side and lifted her towards him, pressing her frail body against his own. Slowly, he ran his hand up her leg, feeling the stringy weak muscles under his fingertips. "Ah won't be gone long."
She smiled wickedly, and he remained next to her long enough to take in the image. Quickly and silently, Remy exited the room, leaving no trace that he had ever been there.
***
The piercing bangs of the gunshots rang out, shaking the glass and steel around her. Perfect aim, as always. A smug smile crossed her lips as she tucked the silver strands of hair behind her ear and placed the weapon in its holster on her hip. The heels of her boots clicked sharply against the floor as she turned and exited the shooting gallery. Her mother was waiting for her.
"You're almost as good as I am," she smiled contentedly, having watched her through the window.
"Gimme a week and Ah'll be even better," Rogue replied an air of viciousness in her tone.
"That's my girl," Mystique grinned widely.
The pair walked together toward the large room at the end of the massive steel hallway. Bright lights beat down from the vaulted ceilings. They were dressed almost identically, in their uniforms representing the Acolytes of Magneto. Each outfit was high quality black leather, and each reflected the owners rank in the organization.
Rogue wore her hair in a sleek ponytail, with a few silver strands tucked behind each ear. Her uniform consisted of a one piece jumpsuit and knee high, laced leather boots. On each hip she sported a shiny, silver pistol and on her hands she had sleek, black leather gloves.
Mystique on the other hand wore a two piece, leather ensemble. Her top was a corset, embellished with silver stitching. Around her neck she had tied a black fabric choker, on which was stitched the symbol of the Acolytes, a small design resembling a DNA double helix over a crucifix. As leader of the team, Mystique served as a walking artillery. A dagger rested in her left boot and she wore large handguns on both of her hips. Over her back, supported with a thick shoulder strap, was a large plasma rifle, a toy without which she never left home.
The room at the end of the hall was a large, metal circle. Inside sat four more of the mutant army's deadliest assassins. The Acolytes of Magneto was a much smaller group of followers. Lead by Mystique, the group consisted of eight of the most lethal members of Magneto's Brotherhood. They were violent and undetectable. They were the best.
Seated all the way to the right was a man wearing a red linen shirt underneath a sleek, black leather jacket. His yellow blonde hair was neatly combed and his classically beautiful face was interrupted by his oddly shaped nose, which had clearly been broken on more than one occasion. He continually fidgeted with an expensive silver lighter making the flames that appeared dance. To his left was a hulk of a man wearing a sleeveless white undershirt with leather pants and combat boots. He had waterfalls of unruly blonde hair and around his neck he wore silver dog tags. If it was possible the man to his left was even larger. His hair was cropped very close to his head and he wore a hulking bomber jacket and massive boots. He sat at the table shining the bright silver plated knuckles he wore on both hands. Finally, a lithe woman was perched at the final seat at the table. Her long, jet black hair was secured in a tidy knot at the base of her skull. Her leather suit had an Asian inspired top and shorts for bottoms accessorized with knee high boots and silver sunglasses with cobalt blue lenses. She sat at the table examining her silver fingernails.
"Ladies and gentleman we have new assignments," Mystique began speaking immediately following her entrance into the room. Rogue quickly took her seat next to the man in the red shirt.
Quickly Mystique activated the interactive computer system, which pulled up holographic images of the people they were meant to find, and passed around sealed red envelopes to each agent.
"Target Number 43517: Senator Allan Jennings. Jennings has been a long time supporter of the mutant registration act. Now he is pushing for a bill that would allow for mutant concentration camps. We want him taken care of quickly and neatly. Deathstryke. Sabretooth. This is yours. Your brief is in front of you. Make it look like a hunting accident."
Mystique's yellow eyes glinted brightly in the glow of the projected image. The delicate intricacies of her face were highlighted, and though sadistic she looked stunning. Her fiery orange hair was cropped into an angled bob, ending sharply at her chin and accentuating her bone structure.
"Juggernaut. Rogue. Pyro. You three are coming with me. We believe that Scarlett Witch and Quicksilver have encountered complications while on their last mission in Romania. It is our job to assist and retrieve them. We leave in one hour."