Underestimated, a x-men fanfic

"Just a recon mission. The Friends of Humanity have a certain ruthless branch we need to investigate."

"Aren't they all ruthless Charles?" Ororo Munroe, also known as Storm asked, sitting in a leather chair in the War Room. Professor Xavier's shoulder's slumped slightly as he conceded her point.

"That is correct, but we suspect this group is snatching young mutants off of the streets and displaying them in their rallies." He watched as the horror dawned on one of his dearest friends. Displaying meant in most cases death, or worse.

"By the Goddess. What do you want me to do?" Storm was ready and willing. Children were to be protected at all costs.

"Just go to one meeting and see if what has been circulating on the streets is indeed what is happening. If it is, I want for you to call for backup before you do anything." He trusted her with this assignment for her cool head, and the ability to call for help when she needed it. If he sent Remy or Logan they would slash and kill first, then leave. Too conspicuous.

"Okay, when do you want this done?" She asked as she took the piece of paper with the address of the rundown building that they used for meetings every week.

"It happens tomorrow night. Is that enough time?" Ororo nodded.

"That's fine."

"I wan' to come along."

"Remy, if Charles wanted you to go, then he would have assigned you." She chided gently as she laid out an outfit. He sighed and frowned.

"I don't want you there alone. What if someting happens?"

"Nothing will my friend. Please be confident in my skills." Remy brought out a card and let it burn up to nothing.

"I trust you petite, it's doze FOH bastards I don'." Ororo nodded and smiled.

"Don't worry. Now, are you staying or leaving?" She started undressing, slipping on a nightgown.

"Stayin'." He was already in his sleepwear, a pair of red silk pants, as red as his demon like eyes. The lights were cut and they laid down, and Remy watched while she slept. He was worried, something was nagging him horribly, but the soothing atmosphere was working on him, and he fell asleep.

Ororo suited up, tucking her abundant hair underneath a secure black wig. Her outfit consisted of a pair of jeans and a simple cotton shirt, nothing that would stand out in a crowd. Two daggers laid in her pants leg for quick reach, but she expected not to use them. Ignoring the unsettling feeling she got from Remy, she left the mansion quickly, taking flight as she sped towards New York City.

Jean watched her take off from the second floor windows, and Remy appeared beside her. "Are you worried?" She asked.

"It's the FOH. I'd be dead if I wasn't worried." She nodded, her red mane rippling slightly.

"She's great at what she does, and we're all ready to assist her if she calls. But at any rate, she'll be out of there until we get there." Jean said this more to reassure herself than to comfort Remy.

"Touché."

"I mean, for all we know, they could be just like every other low level FOH branches."

"You mean de ones where dey jus' holler and raise 'ell, talk about how disgusting and dirty mutants be, den go home to dere families? Hypocrites." He said darkly and Jean was inclined to agree.

Ororo landed in an alley and examined the piece of paper again before incinerating it. She was one block away. Checking her wig, she walked quickly to the site, the only building with the lights on. It spilled out onto the dirty sidewalk, loud talk and laughter as the door was propped open by a chair.

Walking through, she was welcomed and shown where to sit by a cordial man, someone who looked as if they just stepped off of a Midwestern farm. Large, burly and covered in flannel, he stepped back and seated many others. Men filled the first rows, and women were sprinkled throughout. If she didn't know what was going on, she would think it was just a neighborhood party.

But the FOH shirts gave their chilling intent away, the large banner behind the rundown podium Controlling her temper she made herself sit inside, smiling briefly to people who did the same, and she felt sick. The houselights darkened just slightly as the spotlight centered on a man who walked across the stage. The crowd became quiet at a respectful speed as he smiled over the audience.

"Welcome brethren. We are here to be the driving force behind the tide that will wash away the filth of the mutant race. We are only strong because each and every one of you cares enough about your family. The inferior beasts will be purged from our sight!" The crowd went wild as he stopped and milked the audience. Ororo kept the glare off of her face as she battled the torrent inside. To show any emotion besides agreement could be fatal.

"As you know, we here at the Vanley branch of the Friends of Humanity try to do their part as much as possible. Every mutant we kill is another that isn't stealing our money, or breathing our air, scaring our children!" A lot of women jumped up and clapped, and she couldn't help but feel intense anger. A woman shouldn't want any children harmed, but they're talking about genocide as if it were a PTA bake sale.

"Now, with the pleasantries out of the way, the real work is here. Now, it's time for our weekly purging session. Bring the girl." The man stepped aside as two large men dragged a young woman around Jubilee's age onto the stage, dropping her by the podium. Ororo's breath caught in her throat as they yanked her to her knees painfully, pulling her hair back. "Now look, a young one, a filthy slut like the rest!!" The man screamed insanely.

"I'm not a slut! I've never had sex before!" The young woman cried out in her defense, tears streaming down her cheeks. Ororo resisted the urge to throw up, bringing a hand to her throat as she saw the scoffing faces of the men and women in the chairs around her.

"Lies, all lies. The only mutie woman who hasn't had sex is an unborn one." The men on stage laughed and anger fumed inside. The girl wouldn't survive if Ororo left her alone. Sighing to herself she let her eyes turn white as she quickly jumped into the air. The commotion was instantaneous. Most ran screaming, no doubt going towards their cache of firepower for this express reason of a mutant infiltration. But before any could reach a weapon, Ororo was already at the stage.

Landing quickly, she stared quickly at the man who so hated mutants. "Mutie bitch! You dare defile the FOH stage?" She tried to control her temper but her hand shot out before she realized, delivering a hard punch to his jaw. He fell to the floor and she picked up the girl, flying out of the hole she blew in the roof.

Landing on the ground a couple of blocks away, she melted the chain that bound the young woman's hands behind her back and was enveloped in an unexpected hug. "Thank you. They were going to hurt me."

"That I don't doubt. Do you have a place to stay?" Ororo smiled.

"Yes. My parents are looking for me. I was kidnapped. They're at my aunt's, a couple of streets over. I can make it. Thanks again." She ran off into the night, and Ororo breathed a sigh of relief. Now to-

She reeled as a collar was placed around her neck. Turning, a large blond man stood behind her and lifted a remote he was holding. Pressing a red button pain slammed through her system until she could no longer think, no longer breathe, and the darkness was a welcome refuge.

"Wake up." Silence.

"Wake up!" The jolt of pain to her cheek woke her up, her eyes blinking in the harsh light. Her vision cleared and settled on a man in a suit, looking down at her coldly. Confusion coursed through her brain as she looked down at her body. She was shacked to the floor and the ceiling, spread eagled almost painfully, suspended in the air. "Well well well. Welcome to the land of the living." Ororo glared at him as she felt the collar still around her neck. Struggling against her bonds, she elicited a laugh from the suited man and the two guards at the door.

"Let me go!" Storm threatened, the force of her authority and personality in her voice, her countenance strong.

"We can't do that. See, you disrupted a perfectly legal peaceful assembly, and as a citizen of the United States, I have to put you under citizen's arrest." Ororo bit her lip to keep from screaming.

"You were going to hurt a young woman who did nothing to you or anyone!" She was breathing hard, energy she still felt building up inside, but no outlet. "How was that peaceful?"

"The mutant girl was born, that's all she had to do." He leered as he leaned closer. "So you'll take her place." The overzealous, insane light to his eyes scared her, and she struggled even more against her bonds. He reached up and yanked on her hair, the wig tumbling off of her head quickly. He stumbled back slightly with overexertion, and Ororo smiled slightly. Her long white hair tumbled down her shoulders and back, and she caught the appreciative whistle of one of the guards, who was staring at her, or more accurately, her chest, lustily.

A man came in and whispered a few words to the man quickly, the suit turning around to look at her and then back at the new guy who came in. The conversation was over quickly, and he came back over to her. "Storm is it?"

Still struggling, she felt her arms going numb. "You have me at a disadvantage. You have my name, but I don't have yours." The joints at the top of her legs were starting to burn as she tried to redistribute her weight.

"Michaels." He stepped closer to her and let his finger trace the line of the collar on her skin and it crawled beneath his touch. "You know, for a mutie freak, you don't look half bad. Not as good a human girl, but you'll do." Ororo knew what he could be referring to, but she refused to admit it to herself.

"Then find a human girl to harass!" Michaels smacked her across the face again, causing her back to arch painfully.

"Human girls are to be cherished and nurtured. They are the bearers of our children. Mutant girls can only hope to be our slaves and whores, and to be thankful that we've spared their lives. Any mutant woman should be considered lucky to experience one of us, especially considering the weak and naturally docile nature of the mutant male." Ororo thought about Logan, and how naturally militant he was. "Well…perhaps you'll get that chance. Where is the X-men base?" She laughed out loud at the sheer lunacy of the line of questioning. "You dare to laugh?"

"Yes. You actually think I'll tell you? Never." Ororo hacked and did something she hadn't had the urge to do in a while. She hocked a wad of spit into Michael's face, its spat hitting his cheek. He wiped it off calmly and wiped it on her shirt, fondling her as he went. She tried to move from his touch but the restraints gave no leeway.

He turned and motioned to the guards. One stuck his head out in the hall and three more came in. Ororo looked at the group with fear as Michaels jerked a thumb back at her and said, "Have fun." They allowed him to leave and Ororo wanted to scream.

"What's takin' so long? It's been dree hours since de meetin' been over. What's takin' Stormy so long?" Remy asked as the deck of cards in his hands flew from one to the other in anxious indifference. She should have checked in but didn't. That wasn't like her.

"I'm sure she has a reason." Jean said, trying to calm him down. "We shouldn't worry until we know what's going on."

"I agree Remy. We shouldn't jump to conclusions." Professor Xavier said, but both Jean and Remy picked up on the slight worry in his voice. Gambit nodded curtly, his feelings justified.

"Look, I wait till morning. Meybe. If petite ain't here, den I go lookin'." He closed the door to the office quietly, and Charles started his search with Cerebro.

All sense of time was gone. The lumpy material underneath her was the only thing she'd allow herself to feel as her body bounced from the pounding. They violated her relentlessly, never letting up. They beat her at first, and that she could handle… she could handle the punches and the knife slashes, the kicks and the broken ribs, the punches and the yanking of her hair, the throwing against the walls and the dragging. Her leg was broken and useless, painfully lying beside her, as one of the guards thrust into her, but not this… not this. The guard that held her arms pulled them hard, and a small cry came out as searing pain sliced through them.

Pawing over her, defecating and laughing, yanking and jerking, taking pleasure in urinating and ejaculating all over her, her eyes closed and she wouldn't allow herself to think. WHAM! "Open your eyes mutie!" The man laughed as her eyes were startled open. He stared into hers as he came, groaning and becoming stiff on top of her. He rolled over and she thought she could have a moments peace when the boot came and connected with her ribs, already broken and bruised bones flaring up harshly as he slammed his foot down onto her stomach.

As she shook a moan escaped her lips as she tried to form words. Remy… where are you? Another took his place between her thighs and she screamed silently and aloud, amidst their laughter.

Remy didn't wait any longer. She was in trouble and he knew it. He took his motorcycle and powered towards the city, making it there in an hour. He pulled up to a bar a few blocks from where Ororo was supposed to be and walked in, glasses firmly in place. Sitting down at the counter, he ordered a drink and listened.

Four hours he sat there, men talking about all of the women they had, men talking about the hair they were losing, no one noticing the Cajun as he sipped and nursed his drink. He hit jackpot as two men came in, ordering drinks for everyone. "So what's the occasion?" The bartender asked, holding his hand out for the money up front.

"I had the best piece of ass in my entire life." A sandy haired one crowed as he slapped the bar. His friend burst out laughing too and Remy listened carefully.

"Really?" the bartender asked as he started doling out drinks.

"Yeah. This white haired bitch let me tell you. Whoa. Dynamite." His throat caught up in his chest as he heard them talk about his 'Roro. Standing, Remy shouldered past the men and shoved one a little. Just enough to get him to notice. "Hey, what are you doing?" Sandy Hair stood up and shoved back a little.

"Are you gay or something?" Remy said with a perfect Midwestern accent, shoving back.

"Hey, take it outside!" The bartender yelled, not even looking over in the direction. The friend stood as well, and they quickly moved outside. Remy let the door to the bar close and dropped the accent.

"You die." That was all he said as he shoved his palm against the nose of the Sandy Hair's friend. The nose fragment slammed into the brain, killing him instantly. Sandy Hair looked at his dead friend, and then looked back at Remy.

"What…what do you want?"

"The mutant woman, where is she?"

"She's at the meeting building." He stuttered and shook, scared out of his mind. Remy seethed and suddenly was calm. He took off his glasses and stepped over the dead body, his face two inches away from Sandy Hair's. He stared into his eyes and it dawned all he was was a mutant. Anger and a fear came over his face and Remy snapped his neck.

He broke the door down, the ricochet of the splinters flying everywhere. Chairs scattered across the warehouse floor, empty. Anger. Boiling, hot anger. She wasn't here… he failed her.

Remy roared and destroyed every chair in his way, unidentifiable as he charged or mangled them as he reached the stage and jumped up, his body tired and his heart aching. He failed her. He couldn't save her and he wanted to so badly. He'd give his life just to make sure that she was safe, back at the mansion, smiling.

Numbing sadness so deep he knew that he couldn't take it, slammed through his body. He put his head in his hands and talked himself into standing up, there was still work to do. He'd have to find her body. He couldn't leave it here…where they killed her.

Remy looked up and stopped, even slowed his breathing so he could listen. A noise…he wouldn't allow himself to rejoice just yet... not quite. He raced back stage and ran down a dank hallway. The moaning became worse, louder, and it tore at his heart as he could recognize it, but then it became silent. A row of rooms, converted to detention cells. He charged the hinges of one and it exploded quietly, just falling on its side to the ground.

Restraints lay on the ground and hung from the ceiling, and he was angry. The next room held only a mattress, and his anger grew. Filthy and ragged, it had a large blood stain in the middle, the unmistakable smell of sex in the air, sex and a whole lot of other things mixed together, and Remy wanted to throw up. He turned from the abomination and went to the third and final room, and pushed the simple wood door open.